


Heavy Blow, Down I Go

by lizzehboo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actually lots of people get hurt, Almost Dying, Chaptered, Eventual Sex, F/M, Gen, Hurt Derek, Hurt Isaac, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Sick Derek, Some one-sided Issac/Scott, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 81,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzehboo/pseuds/lizzehboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate was looking for him. Kate. Kate. Derek fell back against the side of his car, taking a shuddering breath, tasting copper on his tongue.</p><p>“H-how is this happening?” He felt like he had to verbalize it. Because none of it made any sense.</p><p>--</p><p>Derek gets attacked in the woods. When he sees Kate, he knows something crazy is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm gonna give this whole chapter-fic thing a try now. :P

Chapter One

Derek skid backwards in the dirt, grunting at the slice across his arm, more irritated that it ripped his jacket than his skin, because his skin healed up no problem. His jacket would require some stitching. The Omega took stance, her dark hair falling heavy around her face, fangs bared. He'd never seen her before, but he couldn't help but feel like something was off about her. The way she fought was vicious but not quite what he was used to when fighting other werewolves. Her style was more frantic, not quite as calculated usual. Though, he supposed Scott was a bit sloppy when he began fighting. Perhaps she was just new at it. Being a new werewolf _and_ an Omega? He didn't wish that on anyone. He jumped for her slashing her across the chest, blood staining her ripped clothes. She gripped to the wound, her golden eyes wide and terrified.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What?”

The girl crumpled at his feet. Derek sniffed the air, smoke pluming through the trees. The scent was spicy and pungent. It burned his nostrils and offended his senses. He shook his head, coughing as it overwhelmed the area. The girl kept clinging to his jeans, crying. _Please. Please. Please._

“What do you want from me?” Derek choked out.

His wounds weren't healing as fast. His chest started hurting. He tried to pull away from her, but his head started spinning and he couldn't quite find his balance.

“Let me go!” He yelled at her gruffly. She kept begging him.

Then she started screaming. A bullet exploded into her skull. The edges of the wound quickly grew black, spreading and spreading until they consumed her. Blood poured from her lips and she collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Dead. Derek scrambled backwards, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes darted around the woods for the source of the bullet. He didn't understand why he couldn't see it right away, _feel_ it, something! He twisted and glared through the smoke.

His heart dropped.

Kate lowered her gun with a smirk, staring him down. And then she lifted it again and pointed it at him. Derek managed to stumble to his feet and run, the bullet exploding the ground where he'd been. The smoke around him was smothering him. His eyes watered and his lungs burned.

It was impossible. She was dead. She was supposed to be dead. He'd seen her dead body. Peter had ripped her fucking throat out. No. _No._ He could hear the dirt blasting behind him with bullets. He whirled around trees, coughing and wheezing with the smoke. His muscles twitched beneath his skin, but they felt heavy in his arms and legs. He forced himself to keep running, running, running until he finally broke free of the tree line, tumbling off the edge of a small cliff and into the river. His arm gave a painful crack on the way down, smacking against a boulder. The pain radiated up into his shoulder and he clenched his jaw, pushing himself to the cliffside where he couldn't be seen, an evading her onlooking eyes. He held his breath and waited. And waited.

His head ached.

She was gone.

It didn't make sense. Kate Argent was dead. That was a fact. It was without question, something he'd witnessed. He coughed into his uninjured hand and groaned. He wasn't healing. He hadn't gotten shot. There was no reason why he wouldn't be healing. His head swam and he toppled over onto the ground, shaking his head, trying to get his vision back to normal. When he managed to get it somewhat close, he got back to his feet and kept hoofing it.

Normally, he'd have no problem finding his car, but his senses failed him, and he was disoriented. Eventually, he managed to stumble upon it, and drove it into town, swerving a bit violently when he had a few particularly bad dizzy spells. He pulled to a stop when he just couldn't do it anymore. The world was spinning and his stomach was churning and he felt like he could hardly breathe. He couldn't go home. Kate was looking for him. Kate. _Kate_. Derek fell back against the side of his car, taking a shuddering breath, tasting copper on his tongue.

“H-how is this happening?” He felt like he had to verbalize it. Because none of it made any sense.

The Beta had begged him. _Begged_ him. She hadn't set out to kill him at all. He glanced around languidly and tried to gather his bearings. He needed to talk to Deaton, but he also knew there was no way he was going to get there on his own. He dragged himself to his feet and trudged forward. God, his chest hurt. And his arm. Fuck, his arm.

He found it fascinating how nights were when people needed help. In small towns, everyone was gone, tucked away in their beds with their families, and the sidewalks basically rolled up at night. In big cities, people were out, but they carried on with their lives without taking a single look at anyone in need for fear they feel obligated to help. Blood trickled over his lips, dripping from his nose. He breathed slowly, his chest feeling hollow.

That was when he saw it. He fought the urge to sigh in relief. The Stilinski house was lit up like a beacon in the middle of a quiet street. Everyone else had gone to bed, but Derek knew better. With the Sheriff out on patrol, the youngest Stilinski wasn't about to be asleep at (Derek looked up at the moon) oh, probably one-thirty in the morning. He could see movement flickering through the upstairs curtains. His eyes rolled back for a moment and his knees threatened to buckle, but he pushed through.

He banged on the door. Probably a little too hard, but he was just a tiny bit desperate.

When Stiles opened the door he made a face, like he didn't realize right away what kind of situation they were in.

“What the fuck, Derek?” he asked in the most blasé way. “Why do you have to show up at my doorstep bleeding? You think it's badass or something?”

“Maybe a little surprising, considering normally I _wouldn't be_ ,” Derek responded curtly, his voice sounding raw in his throat.

Stiles's face fell with realization. “Come in.”

…

Derek flopped down on Stiles's kitchen floor before Stiles could pull a chair out for him. Derek certainly was pleased with the sentiment, but his legs finally gave out on him.

“Woah, woah,” Stiles said quickly in that panicky voice he got when shit went down. “You okay? You good?”

“Super,” Derek snarked, his head falling back against the cabinets.

Stiles shoved a towel under Derek's nose. “Why aren't you healing?!”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Well, at least you're in good spirits,” Stiles grumbled. Then he blanched. “HOLY SHIT. Dude. Your arm. Oh my God.”

Derek glanced at it with slow eyes. It was twisted and mangled at the wrist, bruised black and definitely broken.

Well. That was why it hurt.

“Derek. _Derek._ ” Stiles snapped his fingers in front of Derek's eyes until he refocused. “Hey. We gotta get you to a hospital.”

“I need to talk to Deaton,” Derek wheezed before letting out a pained noise and curling into himself, his chest feeling like it was going to explode. “AGH, fucking hell!”

“Breathe, man. Breathe!”

Derek gripped at Stiles's sweatshirt. “I--- can't.” He sucked in air but it died at his throat until he started seeing spots.

Stiles smacked him on the back, and luckily, a little air got through. He slumped forward, half of him against Stiles's shoulder.

“Come on. Come on. We're gonna go see him, okay? But I can't carry you on my own, so you gotta help me. Help me help you, man.”

Derek curled his unbroken around Stiles's shoulders and pulled himself to his feet with all the effort he could. His knees wobbled a little under his weight, but Stiles helped even it out. The towel that had been shoved in his face fell to the floor, stained.

After a few god-awful minutes of lumbering to Stiles's Jeep, Derek was leaning against the window, willing the coolness of the glass to take the pain in his skull away. Or the pain in his arm. Or his chest. Or his back. Or anywhere, really. That would be nice. He wasn't feeling picky at the moment.

He blacked out for a minute. Maybe more. All he knew was that the ride was over quicker than it should've been, because they got to Deaton's in a blink.

Stiles ran into Deaton's office, leaving Derek in the Jeep. Derek stiffened in the seat, eying the area around him. She could be there, he thought. She could be there to kill him. Put a bullet through his brain until Wolfsbane ate him alive. But then Stiles was galloping back to him with Deaton in tow. When he opened the door of the Jeep, Stiles had to catch Derek, because he basically melted out of the door and toward the ground.

“I hope you're not being dramatic,” Stiles groaned, but there was an edge of concern to his voice.

Deaton reached out and helped Stiles drag Derek back inside.

…

Derek didn't like being dragged anywhere. He didn't like X-rays. And he didn't like casts. They were itchy. Getting his arm splinted sucked even more. He wasn't used to his bones not healing on his own. And his chest still ached. And his back. And his head. And everything still fucking hurt damn it.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Deaton asked, but he was definitely suggesting Derek speak up immediately.

Derek swallowed but his throat was dry. He wiped at the dried blood on his face and it cracked and flaked off. “I saw... I saw... Kate.”

“ _Argent?!_ ” Stiles choked. “That's impossible!”

“I know,” Derek said softly. “But that was who I saw. I... I ran across this Omega. And she wanted to fight me. She wouldn't let up. Sloppy...” Derek wheezed a little, slowing down his speech to catch his breath. “She didn't fight... like she should.” Derek winced, clutching his ribs. “And then she fell down... like she was in pain. And she was begging me.... _please. Please._ The place filled with... with smoke. And I saw her... Kate... she shot the Omega in the head. And then she started... shooting at me.”

Derek felt dizzy with the effort.

“Are you sure it was Kate? Maybe the smoke fooled you,” Stiles suggested.

Derek glared at him. “It was her.”

Stiles's lips thinned, his eyes flashing in irritation. “Okay, fine. It was her. What about you? She didn't shoot you. How'd you end up in such bad shape?”

“I don't know. I... ran from her. I fell into the river. Broke my arm. It won't heal.” Derek started coughing and it hurt all the way into his back. He flopped over, his head between his knees. “Nothing heals. And I... I don't feel right. I don't...” He coughed again and could taste blood in his throat.

“She must have been burning some kind of Wolfsbane. Luckily you only inhaled it, so you're going to have a really rough night, but you'll live.”

“Because my night has been going _swimmingly_.”

“I wouldn't recommend any more swimming for you, heh.” Stiles tried to joke. He tried really hard.

Derek threatened him with his eyes. He knew he didn't really have it in him to kill Stiles. Maybe not at that moment. But the threat was there. Stiles's half-hearted laugh died into nothing. Derek closed his eyes and leaned back.

“So this will pass in the next day or so?” he asked, exhausted.

“I'm going to go out to where you were and see if I can find the Wolfsbane ashes and try to mix up an antidote in case it doesn't, but being that it was airborne, I don't believe it will stay in your system long enough to do any permanent damage. I wouldn't suggest any cardio for a few days at least. And you're going to be pretty miserable until it works it's way out. Especially when your body starts returning to its normal state. It's going to be fighting the poison.”

“Fantastic,” Derek groused, his head feeling too heavy to be on his shoulders.

Stiles's reached over and pushed a palm to Derek's forehead. Derek didn't even react. “He's already running fever.”

“I can keep him here tonight.”

“No way,” Derek argued. “I'm not going to sit here and wait for Kate to inevitably show up. This is the first place she'll look. If she was burning the Wolfsbane, she'll know I need help.” Derek groaned. “I'll... I'll find a place.”

“You don't need to be by yourself right now, Derek,” Deaton argued, his soft voice stern.

“I don't--” Derek started to argue, but he didn't know how to finish the sentence.

“I got it,” Stiles said, albeit a little reluctantly. “My dad's working all night because of a – you guessed it – fire in the woods just outside of town. They suspect arson. And when they find the body of that Omega, he's definitely gonna be pulling a few extra shifts.” He sighed. “I can, uh, give Scott a call too.”

Derek grimaced at the idea of it. He didn't want Scott to see him like this. Scott was already fighting the idea of Derek being his Alpha. He didn't want to prove to him that he had a reason to be apprehensive.

“If you think you can handle it, Stiles, I trust you,” Deaton said gently. “But you need to understand that dealing with a werewolf in this state is much different than dealing with a human.”

“What, he'll be more cranky? I can manage. Meanwhile, you go check out that Wolfsbane. Maybe we can gather the pack to go look for Kate.”

Derek closed his eyes. “Peter's gonna be pissed.”

“Yeah, if he's not dead by morning. Not that that's ever stopped him before.” Stiles' heaved Derek off the exam table, his arm back around his shoulders. “Come on, Sourwolf. Let's get you home.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fever.

 Chapter Two

Derek didn't think it was possible to feel worse, but by the time he got back to Stiles's home, he was pretty certain his night was going to suck. He rubbed at his temples, but he was pretty sure the majority of the ache was coming from his sinuses, pounding upwards, behind his eyes. He leaned back into the seat of the Jeep before finally forcing himself to get out of the thing. He tried to walk on his own, but Stiles insisted helping.

“Dude, you are not walking by yourself. You look like you're about to fall over. And we've got stairs.”

Derek fought the urge to groan. _Stairs._ Anything but stairs.

But up they went, creating nice, loud thuds throughout the house. Each step felt like a mountain to Derek's heavy limbs and he prayed to whatever was out there to get his werewolf senses back and heal up. He didn't like being anywhere near vulnerable.

“Here we go,” Stiles grunted, flopping Derek onto his bed. Derek more toppled onto the duvet than sat. “Let me get you some clothes. You're kinda... grimy and gross.”

Derek glared, not really in the mood for argument. He pulled off his jacket (which was only hanging on his shoulders at that point due to his arm being in the cast), frowning at the rip in the sleeve and hung it on the end of the footboard. Next came his shirt. This was a slower process. He took careful time easing his broken arm out of the sleeve, and doing everything one-handed pretty much blew as he expected it to. Stiles came gallivanting back into the room with an arm full of clothes in one arm, his cell phone pressed against his ear.

“Yeah, Scott. He said Kate. No, he's not crazy.” Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically in front of Derek. “Oh, gee, Scott, I don't know how Allison would handle that. Maybe _you_ should tell her. What?” Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, look. Why don't you just grab Isaac and Erica and Boyd and to check shit out? But try to not get caught this time? My dad is out there and I don't need him asking any questions. Scott... _Scott._ I _don't know_ what the fuck is going on. I'll call you when I figure it out, but I'm pretty sure you'll be ahead of the game on that. Hm? Oh, Derek? Y-yeah. He's fine. Deaton's got me watching him. I can handle it. Just. Scott. Goodbye, Scott. I'm hanging up now. Yep. _BYE._ ”

Stiles punched the End button on his phone and dropped it onto his desk with a huff. Derek had stopped trying with his t-shirt to watch Stiles's conversation. He'd only managed the one arm anyway.

“He asks a million questions,” Stiles sighed. “You know. If he'd do that in class, he'd get better grades.” He stepped over and slid the t-shirt over Derek's head and tossed it over his shoulder with ease. “How's your arm?”

“Broken,” Derek replied with half a smirk. Stiles returned it, amused

“So I hear. Jeans.”

“What?”

“You wanna trudge around in dirty destroyed jeans, be my guest. But I brought you some sweats.”

Derek kicked off his boots, popped the button on his fly, and shimmied out of his jeans, though they were a little crusty with mud and hard to get out of.

“I'll... try to wash these,” Stiles mused, holding up his clothes with a slightly disgusted expression. He tossed the sweats on the bed. “Be right back.”

Derek ignored the shirt but put on the sweat pants. They were fresh from the dryer and a little bit short on him, but damn if they weren't comfortable. He laid back on Stiles's bed, the cool pillow bliss against his face. He really needed a shower, but he also knew there was no way he was moving from that spot because it was the first bit of relief he'd gotten all night.

He woke up not knowing he'd ever fallen asleep. Stiles's room was dark. Only the sliver of light from outside the window peeking through the curtains and the glow of the alarm clock (5:25) kept the room from being pitch black.

Derek didn't feel well. At all. His whole body was aching now, and he felt like something was sitting on his chest. He took a hollow breath and it stung in his chest. The ache behind his eyes was full blown pounding and it made it hard to focus, and his muscles twitched and shuddered underneath a blanket he didn't remember curling under. He tried to sit up, but vertigo slammed into his brain and he nearly fell out of the bed. And then he started coughing, and he couldn't fucking stop. His eyes watered and he tasted the blood in his mouth. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fucking breathe.

Light blasted into his vision and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Derek. Derek?” Stiles smacked Derek's back. “Come on, man, breathe.”

Derek coughed into his hand, a sticky, gross, black liquid, but when oxygen hit his lungs he was relieved. He slumped into Stiles against his will, his body spent.

“Oh. Oh shit.” Stiles's hand was pressed to Derek's forehead again. “You're frying, dude. And what is this stuff on your hands? Ew!”

Derek couldn't stop his hands from shaking, even when Stiles came running back into the room with a towel to clean them off. He looked up at the boy, and he couldn't help himself.

“I'm sorry,” he said, and his voice was low and gravelly.

Stiles softened significantly, his eyebrows arching in concern. “Yeah, you'd only do that with a fever, wouldn't you?”

Derek swallowed and it tasted like bile and blood mixed with something putrid – probably the Wolfsbane.

“Where were you?” Derek asked, because Stiles had been somewhere in the room.

“I fell asleep on my laptop trying to find the Wolfsbane that was used on you to help Deaton. It... went to sleep too, I guess.” He glanced at the black screen of his laptop. The battery had died. Derek felt a little bad about taking Stiles's bed, but he honestly hadn't thought about it, and definitely hadn't planned on falling asleep.

“We gotta cool you down, man. Get up.”

Standing was worse. It was like he was walking on a rocking ship or a swaying drawbridge and the whole planet was moving back and forth. He was queasy after just a couple of steps.

“God damn it,” he choked, reaching to grab the door frame and swallowing down bile in his throat. Stiles still had a grip on his arm.

“It's because your fever's so high. Come on. Just a little further.”

He'd never experienced fever before. He felt like he was freezing to death on the outside, but at the same time, he was almost certain his brain was sweating. Or melting. Melting was more likely. Before he knew it he was tumbling down onto Stiles's bathroom floor and having his head shoved under the cold water pouring from the faucet on the tub. He jumped a little with surprise.

“Sorry. I know it sucks,” Stiles said gently.

Derek froze. Stiles was running his hand up and down his back, and, hey, that was weird.

“You know. I remember my dad doing this for me once when my fever spiked one night. Way back. I was a kid I think. I was probably traumatized by it a little, but I wouldn't go to the hospital. I was terrified of them.”

“Why?” Derek asked, closing his eyes and leaning further into the porcelain tub, letting the water run in rivulets down the sides of his face.

“That's where my mom died.” Stiles said it with ease, like he'd explained it a million times. “I was certain they were going to kill me too.”

“How did she die?”

“Cancer. But I was little. I didn't know that at the time. I thought the doctors were killing her with all the tubes and stuff they were putting in her body. And every time she came home from the doctors, she'd feel worse, not better. So I thought they were poisoning her.”

Stiles turned the faucet off and threw a towel on Derek's head. Derek's nose started bleeding, small spots of red dripping into the tub.

“Better?”

Derek dried at his hair and pressed the towel to his nose. “A little,” he admitted, still dizzy and way, way too tired. He sighed, draping the towel around his neck, little droplets still making their way down the sides of his face. “...Stiles... Thanks.”

Stiles smiled, surprised. “You're... you're welcome.”

“Ugh,” Derek groaned, leaning back and dabbing at his nose. “This is what being sick feels like, hm? I think I'd rather stay a werewolf. This sucks balls.”

“Tell me about it. I was sick all the time as a kid considering how much time I spent in hospitals and doctors' offices. It sucks feeling like crap. I can't imagine feeling it for the first time in what-- you're like... twenty or something?”

Derek smirked. “Something like that.”

“Aw, what? You're not gonna tell me?”

“Doesn't really matter. Werewolves have longer lifespans than humans – if they're not hunted, of course. We don't really keep up with it.”

“Yeah, and I guess you can't get any enjoyment out of alcohol, so what's the point of celebrating 21?” Stiles paused, sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor, across from Derek. “What about porn though?”

Derek fought the urge to laugh and actually failed a little. He chuckled. “I had a full beard when I was fifteen. I never had any issues getting porn from the video store.”

Stiles looked absolutely scandalized. “Oh my God! What'd you rent?”

“That, I am not telling you.” Derek blew his nose into the towel and grimaced at the burning feeling it left in his nostrils.

“It's really unfair. I'm stuck with this baby face. Good thing the internet took off or I'd be miserable.”

“Besides, my sister caught me renting some once and kicked my ass all the way home. Never piss off a female werewolf.”

“See, I've made that mistake with Erica plenty of times. I don't know how I'm alive right now. Maybe I just have quick reflexes.” Stiles reached out and touched Derek's forehead again. “Your fever dropped a little bit. That's good. Let's go back to bed. We've probably got hell ahead of us.”

Stiles stood first and reached out to help Derek up. Derek's back was killing him, his lungs still awful from the effort. His breath was raspy and harsh. His head was still cold and his hair still damp, but he didn't really care at the moment. The idea of crawling back into bed and going back to sleep seemed like a wet dream. Derek slid underneath the blankets with ease, eying Stiles as he huddled over his mini fridge.

“Hey, hey. Here. Drink some water. If you keep hydrated, your fever will stay down – not to mention it'll break up whatever that crud is in your lungs.” Stiles shook the bottle of water for emphasis.

Derek drank most of it in a couple of minutes. It was like he hadn't remembered he was so thirsty until that moment.

“Stiles,” he said, and tried to fight the reluctance in his voice, because he was so comfortable, “I don't have to sleep here. I can sleep on the floor. It's your bed.”

“Don't be stupid. You've had a pretty rough day. I'm pretty sure you've earned bed privileges. Besides, when's the last time you actually slept in a fully furnished bed?”

Derek felt a blush creep up his neck, feeling a little ashamed. “It's been awhile.”

“So enjoy it. I always let Scott sleep there when he comes over. It's common courtesy to take the floor.”

“You mean you and Scott don't share it when he's here?” Derek snarked.

“We tried once, but Scott kicks and shit in his sleep.” Stiles stopped himself. “Oh wait, you were joking, weren't you?”

“What you do with Scott is your business.”

“Don't sass me, Hale. Scott is all about Allison and you know it. Like, so much that you can't even joke about it.”

Derek rolled onto his stomach, molding into the bed with a smile. He was starting to feel a little better. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Well I'm not gonna be sharing it with anyone else any time soon,” Stiles huffed, a bit bitterly.

Derek started to doze off. “Stop worrying about it, Stiles,” he said, his voice muffled against the pillow. “You'll woo someone soon enough.”

…

Derek woke up to a shooting pain in his arm and daylight pouring through the window. He sat up quickly, his breath quick, heart beat rapid. He clawed violently at his cast, when he realized – he had claws. He could feel the bones in his arm fusing back in place, shifting painfully and reforming. He sliced the cast off with his claws and flexed his healing arm. He glanced around the room with clear eyes, finally. It was pretty messy, but not anymore than any other teenage boy's room would be. Stiles's alarm clock read 10:45. Derek slid out of the bed and stretched.

Ew, was his first thought. He was grimy. He'd broken a sweat in his sleep, fighting his fever. He needed a shower.

“Stiles?” he called out, walking out of the room and rubbing at his back, lingering at the top of the stairs.

“Kitchen!” Stiles's voice returned. “Can you make the stairs?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.”

Derek slid down the banister because he could and swung into the kitchen, flexing his arm victoriously.

“Oh good. Humpty Dumpty got put back together,” Stiles said with his mouth full of cold Lo Mein out of the fridge. He was just standing in the door, sucking noodles out of the box with his chopsticks. Derek grimaced at the sight.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Stiles swallowed. “Don't judge me. I was up taking care of you all night. I didn't feel like cooking.” He closed the fridge door with a clink. “Glad you're better though. Scott called after you fell asleep. Said he needed to meet up with us. Sounded pretty freaked, but I told him you had to sleep. Deaton's orders.”

“You should've woken me up.”

“Shoulda coulda woulda. Go take a shower. You can borrow some of my clothes.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People fight. People talk. More questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be a little addicted to writing this right now.

 Chapter Three

Derek tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was a little small. It made him feel like the Hulk or something, it riding up around his arms and the belt of his jeans. He'd insisted Stiles at least let him wear his own jeans, even though they were stained and ripped. At least they were clean. Scott was full of nervous energy, waiting for them. Erica and Isaac and Boyd hovered around, albeit a bit more stoic than Scott. Boyd had an arm around Erica's waist, and though it was a loving gesture, her expression hinted that he might have been holding her back from ripping Scott's head off.

“What'd you find?” Derek asked gruffly, preferring to ask the questions than answer any.

“That's the thing. There was remnants of a fire, and cops everywhere. But all bullets were recovered. Even the one in that little werewolf's skull,” Isaac butted in before Scott could. “...Well, what was left of it.”

“What do you mean, _what was left of it?_ ” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Isaac. Derek could hear the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. It was like he was clear to the world again. Nice.

“We couldn't get very close, but we could hear the police talking,” Erica said. “They said that the majority of her face had... disintegrated.”  
Derek raised his eyebrows. The bullets had come very close to hitting him. Yeah, he'd spent the past night miserable out of his mind, but his skin hadn't melted off or anything.

“Well, uh. That's a very... _potent_ Wolfsbane.” Stiles made a face.

“Kate was burning some sort of Wolfsbane too. The smoke could have increased the effect of the bullets,” Derek said.

“Here's the thing, Derek,” Scott broke in finally. “We didn't find any footprints, any scents, _anything_ to signify that anyone else was there besides you and the Omega.”

“Erica and I looked all over town for Kate Argent. There was no sign of her. Not at all.”

Derek bristled. “What. You think _I_ did it? Why the fuck would I do that? How would I do that?”

“We know that you didn't do it, Derek. But that doesn't mean Kate Argent was there,” Erica argued.

“You two didn't even know who she was. How would you even know how to look for her?” Derek spat at the two Betas. “You don't know her style of combat. You don't know how well she can hide.”

“With bullets like that, why would she want to hide?”

“Because no one likes a fucking zombie!”

Stiles grabbed Derek's arm, softly pushing his fingertips into his skin. “Will you relax? No one's attacking you.”  
Derek whirled on him. “Do you believe what I saw?”

Stiles stammered. “Wh-what? I don't know. I wasn't there. Why are you so mad?”

Derek's eyes flashed red. “Because my entire pack is calling me a liar.”

“I'm not part of your pack,” Scott threw in, because he was stupid and said all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Stiles glared at Scott as if to convey that but Scott ignored him.

“Fuck you, Scott,” Derek hissed. “Kate Argent was there. And when she comes slinging guns at you, don't think your little ex-girlfriend is going to save you this time.”

“Oh, this is going swimmingly,” Stiles groaned, running a hand down his face. “HEY!”

Everyone looked at Stiles, who stepped up into the circle.

“Why don't we all stop bitching at each other for a second and try to focus on what we know? Forget about Kate for five seconds.” He made a pointed look at Derek. “Yeah, she's crazy. She's dangerous. She's you're run of the mill femme fatale. But if she's nowhere to be seen, we need to figure out the Wolfsbane that was used to kill that Omega – before it's used on any of you guys. And if she _is_ back from the dead, there's gotta be someone behind that, because people don't just crawl out of graves and start killing. So I suggest checking out Kate's grave to see if maybe there was anything dug up? Maybe?”

Isaac perked. “Hey, that's a good start. And I have keys to the graveyard.”

“That's the way I want to spend my Saturday. Investigating murders and grave-robbing. Hell yeah.” Erica tossed blonde curls over her shoulder and took the lead, heels clicking on the sidewalk.

Derek tagged along in the back, moping. Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek and Scott needed to be better friends. They were too much alike when it came to arguing.

“So stubborn,” Stiles muttered, casting glances at each of them. They were like mirrors, walking in step with the same fucking expression on their faces.

…

Derek's face fell.

Kate's grave was completely undisturbed. Grass had even grown over the dirt gently bouncing in the wind.

“No. That doesn't... she was there.”

Stiles looked down at the dirt under his feet and chewed his lip. Everyone else seemed to have made up their minds, judging by their expressions. But damn. Derek fought hard for his point of view, but he would acknowledge when he was wrong. And they hadn't seen how fucking spooked the guy was the night he saw her. Stiles knew that he had to be telling the truth.

He just didn't know how he was supposed to be doing so when Kate was still six feet under.

“Forget it. Someone shot at you and that Omega. We need to figure out what kind of firepower they have so we know what we're up against.”

“It melts faces. Pretty sure we know what we're up against,” Derek spat.

“Oh, they're going to fight again. That's new,” Stiles grumbled. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd seemed to share the sentiment.

“Look, I'm just saying maybe Allison knows-”

“Oh, shocking. Looking for an excuse to see your girlfriend.”

“She's not my girlfriend. But she does know a thing or two about these weapons. Her dad helped us when Gerard went nuts. Why won't you trust her?”

“Because _she_ can easily turn into _her_ ,” Derek growled, pointing at the gravestone. “All it takes is one little push. You know that. She damn near took out Erica and Boyd. And if you mess with my pack, you mess with me.”

Stiles huffed. It was going to be like this until Scott and Derek made up for what happened with Gerard. And that was gonna happen, oh, maybe never.

“She won't,” Scott argued, defiant. “She loves me and I love her.”

“Love? You're a fucking teenager. You don't know anything about love.”

“Neither do you! I'm seriously doubting you've ever felt it once in your life.”

Derek's jaw tightened so visibly that Stiles waited to hear it pop.

“You know what? Fine. Go talk to her. Tell her all about this shit and see what happens. Then we won't be able to investigate because they'll be chasing us down, ready to kill us. Because we don't have enough problems. I'm going to find Kate and kill her _my-fucking-self_.” Derek stomped away with eyes flashing red.

He looked strung out. His body was still getting over the effects of the Wolfsbane.

“Well, that went about as well as I expected,” Erica said after a minute. “Should we go after him?”

“Only if you want your face ripped off,” Boyd mused. “Better let him cool off before we start searching.” He glanced at Scott. “You sure know how to push his buttons, McCall. I'll give you that.”

“He's just mad because he knows I'm right about this. The Argents aren't out to get us.”

“Hmph, not _you,_ maybe,” Erica sneered. “You weren't the one that ended up littered with arrows.”

“What about Kate?” Isaac asked. “I mean, I don't know much about her besides what you told me and what I saw on the news. But come on. Stranger things have happened. What if she _is_ alive?”

“You don't think Derek's not a little out of sorts?” Scott crossed his arms across his chest. “I'm not saying rule it out as a possibility, but that forest was full of Wolfsbane smoke, and he looked pretty rough today. Someone was shooting at him, yeah. But maybe he just thought he saw Kate.”

“What if the Wolfsbane they were burning was like, I dunno. Scarecrow dust?” Stiles spoke up suddenly.

Everyone looked at him, confused.

“Like in _Batman Begins._ Scarecrow had a chemical that would make someone see their greatest fear. Maybe that was his greatest fear and he saw it.”

“You think they can do that with Wolfsbane? Fuck, that's not something I want to think about,” Isaac commented, looking a little helpless.

“You should ask your vet-tech friend-guy,” Erica suggested, not even bothering to ask for Deaton's name. “Since Scott's probably gonna wanna talk to Allison _alone_.” She smirked at him. “I know what Boyd and I do when we're _alone_. I'm sure a lot of things will be... said. Isaac.” Isaac perked up, looking to her. “What say you and Boyd and I hit the woods again? And then maybe the morgue. I want to get a closer look at this corpse. Or what's left of her anyway. And here, Stiles.” Erica tossed him a baggie with some dusty ashes in it. “Those are the ashes to the Wolfsbane that was burned. Better take it to Deaton. See ya, losers.”

Scott huffed and took off without saying goodbye. Which okay. That was fine. Scott was being a brat anyway. Stiles stood in the graveyard for a long moment, holding the ashes.

“What the fuck just happened?” he verbalized, but no one was around to hear it.

…

“You brought this to me becaussse...”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, crossing her legs as Stiles handed her the ashes.

“I'm taking it to Deaton too, but I thought I'd get your opinion on it.”

Lydia had been a good ally to have after she finally demanded she get filled in on everything. Jackson had definitely told her a lot before he took off (no one knew where, and she didn't take it well), and Scott and Stiles filled in the rest. She knew her shit. Also, she knew Latin. That came in handy with the Bestiary and would likely come in handy again.

“Hmm... hard to say since it's just ashes now. By the way, don't take a huge whiff of it. It's more poisonous to humans than it is to werewolves. Aconite is so toxic that humans die within two to six hours of poisoning.”

“Deaaaaah!” Stiles backed away from the bag like it was about to explode. “Yikes.”

“It's not gonna melt through the bag and get you, Stiles.” Lydia rolled her eyes so hard Stiles was certain it would snap her neck off her spine. “Deaton will know more about it, but judging by the hue of the ashes, I'd say Acontium Anthora – a.k.a. Yellow Monkshood. It's root was actually used as an antidote to some poisons, but it's still deadly even in small doses. It's not really known through this country. It would usually reside in the Czech Republic. So someone either brought it here or had it sent here. That, or they're cultivating it privately.”

“What are its effects on werewolves?”

“Again, that's Deaton territory, but probably not much different than most Wolfsbane. Not the greatest thing in the world to hit the lungs, though.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you come in contact with it?” Lydia turned in her chair with a flurry of strawberry blonde hair. “Stiles?”

“What? Uhh no. Not me. Derek. Derek inhaled the smoke when whoever was burning this...” Stiles indicated the ashes.

“He's alive?”

“Yeah. He worked it out of his system. Coughed up black shit for a night.”

Lydia chewed her lip, glancing at the ashes. “Well, that's good I guess. I wouldn't recommend him suck that into his body again though.”

“Why?”

Lydia rolled her computer chair over to her bookshelf, opening the doors on it to reveal that, yes, she had a lot of them hidden away. “I might have a book on it somewhere. Ah, here we go. Allison gave me this. Basically,” she opened it to the exact page as if she had every single one memorized, “This stuff is bad for werewolves any time. But this type will build up in a werewolf's body over time. Yes, the werewolf will heal after inhaling it, but it's not completely gone for at least a month's time. So it will only get exponentially worse upon further ingestion.”

Stiles swallowed. The odds of that happening at the moment were high, and Derek was alone. In the woods. Where he got stuck in the smoke in the first place.

“Uhh... got anything on a type of Wolfsbane that... er... causes werewolves to disintegrate?”

Lydia slammed the book shut and held it an arm's length away from Stiles. “You're going to have to clarify before I tell you anything else.”

Stiles hesitated, then went for the book. She kept it out of his reach, clucking her tongue and giving him eyes.

Stiles huffed. “Derek was fighting... an Omega. And the Omega got shot with a bullet covered in Wolfsbane and she sort of... disintegrated. Like. Her face melted off.”

Lydia's eyes went wide. “Well, that's a little terrifying.”

“Yeah.” Stiles shrugged a shoulder. “I don't know why you were keeping that from me anyway. The whole thing's in Latin and we aren't all fluent in it.”

“None of you are. None of you except me. But you still went for it. Who's the fool now?” She pursed her heavily glossed lips and then opened the book again, flipping through the pages. “Might be Northern Blue Monkshood. Only found in four states here – California's not one of them by the way. Very lethal. I bet combined with the Yellow Monkshood smoke, poor little Omega didn't stand a chance.”

“But can it really eat the skin away like that? I've never seen Wolfsbane do that.”

“Could've been particularly concentrated. Considering your shooter is probably a cultivator of Wolfsbane, wouldn't be surprise. So take this to Deaton.” She handed Stiles the book. “And then if I were you, I'd go find Derek and tell him what I told you. Think you can remember it?”

“I'm not stupid, Lydia.”

“Mm,” Lydia replied simply, ignoring him as if to say _yes, Stiles, sometimes you're very stupid,_ and strapping on a pair of tall pink heels.

“Wh-where are you going?”

“To tell Peter of course. He might see Derek before you. And if this person is trying to take out Derek, Peter's probably target number two. Either him or Scott – who I'm assuming already knows about it.”

“Lydia...”

“What?” She stopped at the door before opening it.

“Derek said... he said he saw Kate Argent. That she was the shooter.” Stiles rocked on his heels. “Could he have been... hallucinating?”

“Well, considering she's dead? I wouldn't rule it out.”

Stiles delivered the book (and the news) to Deaton and hit the pavement, leaving his jeep parked in front of the Vet. He didn't feel like driving. He was too distracted. His mind was going a mile a minute with all the info Lydia had dropped on him. Sometimes he wished she wasn't so fucking smart. Not to mention she'd sassed him the entire time.

He was such a glutton for punishment.

He was more worried about Derek than anything. Not that he thought Derek was the most awesome guy in the whole world or whatever, but he'd been more helpful to them than Scott seemed to remember.

He kept thinking about when Victoria Argent was killing Scott, slowly, and Derek had Stiles break the mountain ash trail to go after her and stop her. The look on Derek's face was something he'd remember probably forever. He had been desperate. Stiles didn't need werewolf senses to hear his heart pounding, see the fear in his eyes. When lives were threatened, Derek stepped the fuck up. He was fighting with Death every day, and he never backed away from it. Crazy thing was, Stiles knew all about that. He stood up to tons of things he had no chance of winning. Bullies. Monsters. Etcetera. And it was never because he was fucking brave. No no. Not at all. It was because he was fucking terrified, but he sure as hell wasn't going to run. Because things didn't go away when they were run from. All they'd do was chase you.

Stiles supported Scott all the way. Scott was his best friend. But he also knew that Scott was bull-headed. Scott was the type of person that would sit down to play a video game, skip the tutorial, and then wonder what the hell he was doing for an hour and a half until he finally figured it out. Stiles knew that sometimes things took strategy. Sometimes you had to ask for directions on your road trip before you ended up in the middle of fucking nowhere. And Scott and Derek had been locking horns so much that they'd both seemed to have forgotten why they were meeting in the first place.

He'd felt bad for Derek the night before. Derek definitely didn't take to vulnerability well. He was used to being the leader, the Alpha. But he'd trusted Stiles to take care of him. And hell, Stiles didn't do a marvelous job, but he'd managed. When Derek had fallen asleep the second time, Stiles had sat and watched him. He wasn't able to help it. Derek had woken up unable to breathe. He certainly didn't want the wolf's lungs to stop working while he was off in Dreamland. He'd never seen Derek like that before. For once, his face had softened. He didn't hold tension in it. He was... happy.

Stiles knew what that was like too – to only be calm and happy in Dreamland. Sometimes life just made him feel like he was drowning and only when he slept did he ever break the surface of the water. He couldn't imagine waking up and actually not being able to breathe. Scary shit. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, realizing he was just kind of standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Thinking about Derek. That wasn't weird.

Nope.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's wrong with the dog?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can be prolific, don't judge me.

 Chapter Four

“Hey Dad,” Stiles greeted tiredly, slipping in through the front door after a successful day of nothing. His body ached from all the running and he was looking forward to throwing himself into his bed and starting fresh tomorrow. It looked like his dad was also feeling the same. He was knocking back a tumbler of Jack Daniels and rubbing his temples over paperwork, as he tended to do when shit went down in Beacon Hills. With all the supernatural shit going on, he was probably the busiest sheriff in the state, and he never got the actual answer to what was going on.

 _Ooh, guilt_ , Stiles thought. “Long day?” he said instead.

“Don't be coy. I'm sure you've been following me around all day.”

“No.”

“I saw McCall. You couldn't have been far behind.”

“Damn, Scott's got to learn how to be discreet. But no, I actually wasn't there. Are you going to casually fill me in on the murder anyway? Hm? Daddio? Pop pop? Father dearest? Hm?”

“No, Stiles.”

Stiles slumped into the chair across from his dad. “ _Please?_ ”

“I don't know why you don't understand what _Confidential_ means. I feel like I tried to teach you that at a young age.”

“I lack focus?”

Stiles's dad gave him a look.

“Look, Dad. I just... I love what you do, okay? Maybe I wanna be a sheriff one day. Maybe I wanna know how you do it. I'm just... fascinated.”

Sheriff Stilinski softened a little, looking beyond touched. “I know, Stiles.” He patted his son's shoulder. “But I still can't tell you anything. There's not even much to tell.”

“You couldn't even identify her?”

“What? Scott didn't tell you?” Stilinski gave Stiles a dubious look that said _I know your game, son. Don't test me._ “Her face was melted off. We're running dental records. Now go to bed. You look like death.”

“Thank you, Dad. I'm trying something new with my hair.” Stiles smirked.

“Stiles, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Define _at all._ ”

“ _Stiles._ ”

“Dad, you've been the one up for 48 hours. You need more sleep than I do. Why don't we both call it an early night, hm?”

“Okay. But I'm taking my files with me. And I'm locking them in a dresser. Don't go sneaking around.”

“Well, if you haven't even identified her yet, I have nothing to steal.” Stiles chuckled, making his way up the stairs.

“Stealing from a cop seems like a bad idea.”

“You wouldn't shoot me. I'm your son.”

“I've thought about it. But don't worry. I wouldn't kill you. I'd just shoot you in the ass.”

“Dad, you're so caring.”

“I know.”

Stiles pushed through the door into his bedroom and closed it gently behind him, quickly stripping out of his shirt and kicking off his jeans. He dug in his dresser for some bedclothes, throwing on a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

When he turned around, he saw Derek's jacket hanging on the footboard. “Oh,” he murmured.

He'd forgotten it. Stiles walked slowly to it and squeezed the leather sleeve in his palm. There was a rip up by the shoulder. He wondered if he could patch it up before he saw Derek again and return it nice and fixed.

Then again, he could also ruin it, and he definitely didn't want to feel Derek Hale's wrath over a leather jacket. His bed was still unmade, blankets crumpled where Derek had slept. He sat on the mattress, taking in a deep breath. His room smelled. It was a mixture of Derek's cologne and all the blood that had been basically leaking out of his face all evening. Stiles laid back and closed his eyes, taking in a big whiff. He didn't need to forget it.

Lydia was going to visit _Peter._ Stiles made a face. _Feh._ He didn't know what was so special and sexy about the Hale family.

Okay, maybe he had an idea.

Wait, no he didn't.

All he knew was that Lydia had some weird connection to Peter and he didn't like it. He still wasn't super keen on Peter Hale. He had actually tried to kill everyone once after all. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, it was daylight.

His cell phone was buzzing by his face, which had ended up buried in his pillow. He was actually a little amazed he hadn't suffocated. He grabbed it and held it to his ear, blinking sleep out of his eyes, his voice husky and low.

“Hello?”

“Were you asleep?”

“See, Scott, the proper response is _Hi, how are you doing_.”

“Get up, man!”

“Merghlfrg,” Stiles groaned wordlessly, rolling off the mattress. “I'm getting up. Just a sec. What time is it?”

“It's 11:45, dude.”

“Oh, see, now you have a reason to be mad.” Stiles threw on some clothes and grabbed the jacket off his footboard, holding the phone with his shoulder. “Gimme a break, Scott. I hardly slept at all yesterday. I'll be down in a sec.” He hung up without saying goodbye and shoved his phone in his back pocket. He headed down the stairs, ignoring his growling stomach as he pushed his way out the door. “Hey!”

“Talked to Allison,” Scott said easily as they piled into Stiles's Jeep.

“How long did it take to get to the talking part? And please, spare no detail for my sad virgin ears.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles grinned. Scott tried to keep grimacing, but eventually his frown twisted into a smile. He sighed.

“Okay. So. Maybe it took a little bit. We got on relationshippy talk, but she's still not interested in it right now.”

“Yawn. Important stuff, Scott.”

“Well, you asked. I mentioned the murder. She said her dad had taken off to investigate it, but didn't want her coming along.”

“So she followed him.”

“Yep.”

“So she knows about what we know.”

“Not about the Kate thing. Which probably isn't anything anyway.”

“We should probably treat it like a thing, Scott.”

“Don't take his side--”

“Scott, this isn't a game of fucking charades. You and Derek are always yelling about trusting each other and then neither of you follow through because you're stubborn mules. I'm not taking sides. I'm trying to survive. I don't have wicked fast reflexes and claws and teeth like you do.” He paused. “Come to think of it, I also don't have a girlfriend that can shoot a good arrow and split skulls. I'm fucked.”

Scott slouched a little. “Stiles...”

He started the Jeep. “Where are we going? Deaton's?”

“Stiles,” Scott tried again.

“I'm just a little tired of the fighting, that's all.” He tossed the jacket into the back seat. “It doesn't get anything done. Derek's a dick, but he's trying to help. If he didn't want to help he wouldn't have told you anything in the first place. Kate could fill you full of bullets and you'd never know.”

“I still don't think Kate is real.”

“Probably wouldn't bring that up around Derek anymore. Seems to be a touchy subject. I don't know either way. All I know is that someone's trying to kill werewolves and that's a pretty big percentage of my friends, so. Let's do something about it.”

Scott was quiet for a long time. “Okay,” he said finally.

“See? You two may be competing for Alpha, but I'm the real leader of this pack. You'd all rip each other to pieces if it wasn't for me.”

“I wouldn't count that out forever, unfortunately,” Scott said. “But... thanks, Stiles. Sorry I've been such a hothead.”

“Don't apologize, man. You're only human. Well I mean, not _only_ human, but you know what I mean.”

He pulled up outside Deaton's and swung his legs out of the Jeep with ease, feeling a little lighter knowing Scott was going to lighten up. A tad.

“Hey, Deaton,” Stiles started on the way in the door, but paused upon seeing that Deaton was actually preoccupied with an animal. “Whoops, hey. Sorry.”

“It's okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just a quick checkup,” Deaton replied kindly.

He was tending to a fluffy gray dog with bright blue eyes. She was a pretty creature, and very well behaved, though she whined nervously.

“Sorry. She's not good with vets, and she's still scared from the move.”

Around the corner came a beautiful young thing with dark blonde hair and hazel green eyes. Freckles were smattered across her cheeks like they were painted on, and her hair fell in perfect little waves around her shoulders. She was wearing high-waisted blue jean shorts and a tied up button down that showed off a sliver of skin and some worn brown boots that had definitely been walked in.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted, smiling through supple lips.

Stiles and Scott were slow to greet, staring at her. “Hey,” they said in unison.

“Faye Arlen.” She held out her hand to them both and they shook quickly. “You guys go to Beacon Hills High? You'll have to show me around.”

“I'm Scott. This is Stiles,” Scott replied. “So you just moved here?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling coyly.

“What's your dog's name?” Stiles asked, trying to be friendly.

Scott was staring at the dog, a bit too intensely to be normal.

“Otrok,” she replied.

“She's just fine. Just nervous. Probably from the move. Try to make her as comfortable as possible. She'll start warming up to the area,” Deaton said.

Faye attached the leash to the dog's harness and let her hop down off the table.

“See you around, fellas. Nice to meet you.” She headed for the door.

The dog whined intensely as it passed Scott, pulling and tugging at the leash until they were out the door.

“Don't look so surprised,” Deaton laughed as soon as the door was shut. “I do actually work with real animals sometimes, not just mythical ones.”

Scott was looking out the glass of the door at the car pulling off the curb and driving into the distance.

“Don't tell me this is your new Allison,” Stiles groaned. “That girl's pretty, but, come on, Scott.”

“No. No. It was her dog. Something about her dog...”

“What about it?”

“I don't know... just seemed... scared.”

“Animals sense you're a werewolf all the time. Maybe it was scared of _you_ ,” Stiles suggested.

Scott looked scalded at that thought, following behind Stiles with a frown. “Maybe.”

…

“How does Lydia know so much about Wolfsbane?” Scott asked.

“Lydia knows a lot about lots of things,” Stiles answered.

They had talked at length with Deaton about the Wolfsbane used, and Deaton had managed to conjure up a little bit of antidote from the ashes they retrieved. _Be very careful with it. It's still very poisonous to humans, and there isn't much. Use it sparingly._ He'd been very clear with his directions.

“I feel like a super villain hanging on to this stuff,” Stiles muttered, tying the vial around his neck.

“Seems like it's pretty potent. Don't snort it or anything.”

“Hey, this shit will kill me. No thank you. Anyway, did Allison tell you anything about the bullets?”

“She said that very few people have access to weapons that strong. She also gave me this.” He held up a bullet. “She said it was likely that it was this type of bullet that the Wolfsbane was put into, but she's never heard of a type so potent. She said it had to have been-”

“Chemically altered. That's what Lydia said too. Like some crazy shit.”

“So this person has to be some sort of psycho-genius to be growing, cultivating, and altering this Wolfsbane. And they also have to be a pretty good shot?”

“Well, Kate Argent was a hell of a shot, but she didn't get Derek that night in the woods. What if it was just someone who looked like her?”

“Are you actually getting on board with Derek's theory?”

“I'm humoring you.”

“It could've been Kate. I mean, I bet rigor mortis is hell on the trigger finger.”

Scott still looked dubious. After a minute, he said. “Hey, you have Derek's jacket. Have you, uh, seen him lately?”

“Not since you two exploded at each other in the graveyard. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Why would I have seen him before you anyway?”

“I don't know. Why would you?”

“Are you interrogating me?”

“No! No. I just... it seems like you're... different around him... lately... is all.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Scott, just because I'm trying to look at things logically doesn't mean that I feel differently about anyone. Derek was in really rough shape and I figured it would be good to ease up on him, y'know? I'd do the same for anyone. You're on that list too, bro. When you're being a dick, I'm gonna tell you. You guys have been at each others' throats ever since Gerard died, and nothing's been done. I'm all for you being an Alpha, Scott, if that's what you wanna do, but I don't see why you two can't work together on occasion. Because let's face it, he's gonna show up when things go wrong, and he's usually a pretty good ally to have and a pretty shitty enemy to have.”

“I think we've gathered all we can on this stuff though, unfortunately,” Scott said, frowning. “I don't want to wait around for things to happen, but I don't know what to do.”

“Then do homework. You gotta get your grades up anyway. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are out there looking too. We'll find something.”

“I hope you're right.”

…

“You need to control your temper.”

Derek punched a hole in the wall. “Fuck you, Peter.”

“See, that's what I'm talking about. This house used to be beautiful.”

“You mean _before_ it burned down?”

“Well, yeah, and before you started punching holes in it.” Peter kicked back on the dusty sofa, folding his hands in his lap. “Don't be so angry. Maybe you were just seeing things.”

“I know what I _saw_ , Peter. That's not a face I'll ever forget. Believe me, I've tried.”

“So have I. Ripping her throat out helped though. Which is why I'm pretty sure she's still dead. I did kill her with my own hands.”

“Yeah, well I killed you and look how well that turned out.”

“Don't look so bitter.” Peter smirked, amused. It only pissed Derek off more.

“She shot at me, Peter. She took a long look at me and then she started shooting. And the Argents are well known for their Wolfsbane-laced bullets. She'd definitely be capable of making them.”

“Derek, I'm not telling you you're wrong. I don't know why you think every question is an accusation.”

“You're not really doing anything to help me, Peter.” Derek took a shallow breath and sat down, clearing his throat. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Peter asked.

“I'm fine. I just... I need some air.”

“Don't get hunted down,” Peter said, a bit too jovially for Derek's liking. He felt his face get hot with anger. He even slammed the door shut on the Camaro to drive his point home.

He didn't know why he ended up at the Stilinski house in the middle of the night, but lo and behold, there he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faye is based n the actor [Kay Panabaker.](http://www.imdb.com/media/rm3057432064/nm0659048)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines of blood are drawn and crossed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, you thought you guys were confused before.

Chapter Five

Derek tapped on Stiles's window and then immediately thought of turning back, when a cool breeze touched his skin and he shivered. Stiles opened his window slowly and held out Derek's leather jacket, patched, albeit a little crudely.

“You're back for this, eh?”

Derek touched the jacket gingerly, like it would burn him, before finally taking it. “Thanks,” he said weirdly. “You patched it up?”

“Well, there was a rip in it. And I took Home Economics in middle school instead of Shop Class because the teacher didn't trust me around power tools.”

“I believe that,” Derek said, leaning into the window frame. “Well, I appreciate it.”

Stiles looked pleased. “You're welcome.” He turned around and walked further into the room, waving for Derek to enter. “Dad's asleep. Quiet with the footsteps.”

Derek took off his boots and set them on the windowsill and stepped in.

“I talked to Scott. Hopefully he won't be quite so pissy with you next time you two speak. Mind doing the same? You two would probably get a lot more accomplished.”

“He started it,” Derek mumbled, sliding the jacket on and checking the sleeve by tugging on it. “Hmm, not bad.”

“I can't build a birdhouse, but I can sew a jacket. Good thing to know without Mom around anymore.”

Derek smirked at him. Stiles made a face.

“You're going to laugh at me now, aren't you?”

“Nah, I think I can manage. I will be happy to hold that as blackmail at a later date though.”

“Thanks,” Stiles responded, deadpan.

“What have you and Scott figured out?”

“Not really anything we didn't already know. We figured out what Wolfsbane was burned, and probably the one in the bullets. I have the antidote to the stuff she burned, but not much of it.”

“Well, I don't think any of us plan on sucking that stuff in anymore.”

“Yeah, well... here's the thing. You need to be extra careful, Derek.”

“Why?”

“Because that stuff doesn't work its way out of your system completely for an entire month. You breathe it in again and it'll be way worse than last time.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles flopped onto his bed and kicked back. “So don't go running into danger if you don't have to.”

Derek sat down by Stiles's feet. “You are aware that I usually have to, right? I don't go looking for it. It finds me.”

“Yeah, but you're also a beacon for it. Tone that shit down, bro.”

Derek snickered. “Okay, yeah, I'll try that.” He grabbed Stiles's foot, holding the busted, holey chucks in front of his face. “You can sew a jacket but you can't buy a decent pair of shoes?”

“They're comfy!” Stiles argued. “Now let go.”

“I can see your toe.” Derek stuck his finger through a hole in the side and Stiles jumped.

“Hey! Stop it! My feet are ticklish.”

“Noted.” Derek let go, amused. Stiles jerked his foot away, giving him a sly look.

“I could've kicked you and gotten away with it.”

“Too late.”

“Damn.”

Derek sighed and then stood, thinking he'd probably overstayed his welcome. But something stopped him at the window.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe that Kate was there?”

Stiles hesitated. “I... believe you saw her. I don't know how, but. I mean, I saw the look in your eyes after that. Just... seemed legit. That being said, there was no reason for you to be a butt to Scott about not being as sure. He's only following the clues.”

Derek nodded, a little shaky. “Thanks. I just... wanted to know that _someone_ didn't think I was crazy.”

“Pff, I think you're nuts, but that's not why.”

Derek started coughing and Stiles was on his feet within seconds. “Are you okay?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, Stiles. Jeez. It's a little cough. I'm fine.”

“Well, someone's gotta look after you once in awhile. I can't help it. It's in my nature. People close to you start dropping you wanna do everything you can to help.”

Derek swallowed, feeling the color drain from his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I get that.”

“Heh, uh. Yeah. I guess you do.”

“Yeah, so if I suffocate, you're more than welcome to resuscitate me. But I'm fine, thanks.”

“Is that the line you use on everyone? Because it sucks,” Stiles joked, going back to his place on the bed.

“I'm not really a _line_ kind of guy,” Derek replied easily, scrunching his nose. It was weird. Normally Stiles irritated him, but he like the comfort of snarking with him. “I don't usually have to say much to be honest.”

“Stop bragging. Ugh. I don't even know.” He flipped through his textbook with a well-humored scowl. “There's more to life than being really, really ridiculously good-looking.”

“ _Zoolander?_ Okay.”

“I'm kind of proud of you for getting that.”

Derek looked out the window at the moon. He felt strong in the light of it, safe. He closed his eyes and bathed in the glow. He was sleepy. He'd been chasing ghosts all day, not recovering a single clue about Kate Argent. He sighed.

“I should go. You have school in the morning.”

“It's like ten-thirty.” Stiles sat up, a little exasperated.

“What? You don't want me to leave?” Derek challenged, because certainly Stiles did.

“I just... uh. I don't think it's safe out there. I mean, if Kate really is back, she's definitely gonna be looking for you. I know Lydia told Peter all about it.”

“It's all a big fucking joke to him. He doesn't believe it for a second.” Derek cleared his throat. “Thinks I'm way overworked about it, but he didn't almost fucking die.”

“I feel like death doesn't scare him much now.”

“Probably not.” Derek crossed his arms, brooding. He was angry. He felt like everyone was looking at him like he was brainless. “I am rarely wrong about these things. I don't know why I'm a leper all of a sudden.”

“It wouldn't be normal if people just agreed with you. Scott's gotta get all huffy and do things his way; people have to almost die, and _then_ we listen to you. Sometimes it's the other way around, but either way, it's pretty much a pattern.” Stiles crawled to the edge of his bed and hung over the footboard, grabbing Derek's hand. “Your knuckles are swollen. Ooh, did you punch Peter in the face?”

“I hit the wall instead. Probably about equally as gratifying.”

“Not for me. I'd love to punch him in the face.”  
Derek looked down at Stiles's hands touching his own. They were warm. He always found it weird how Stiles always talked a coward's game but was the only one out of the entire group that was not afraid to put his hands on him. Even when Derek was seeing red, Stiles instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm. It wasn't like he could physically stop him, but he still did it. Stiles communicated everything physically, all the while spouting off sarcasm. He was a tough book to read. Well. Being able to hear his heartbeat and sniff out the change of his scent helped. Stiles followed his eyes and his hands jolted back, his heart racing in his chest.

“Hahaaaaa... whoops.”

Derek opened the window and pulled his boots on. “Hey. Thank you... for the other night. Really.”

“You're... you're welcome. I mean. It was no problem. I'm not really a good caretaker.” Stiles scratched at his neck. “Don't go bounding into the forest, okay? Scott can bitch all day that he doesn't need you, but we both know that's not true. As annoying as you can be, we... we need your help.”

“Wolves work better in packs. Even if Scott doesn't want to be my Beta, we still work better as a group.”

“You should probably remind yourself of that next time you storm off from the group.”

“Touche. Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Derek.”

…

Okay. Okay. Okay.

Stiles laid awake, staring at his clock. 4:31... 4:32... 4:33...

“Uwaaagh,” he grunted, rolling over to stare at the wall instead. Not nearly as interesting, but he still couldn't sleep.

Maybe he was being weird around Derek. Maybe a little. But Derek was being weird around him too. All the gratitude and stuff was weird, right? But why had Stiles grabbed his hand like that? And held it? Like, that was _really_ weird.

Kinda nice.

Nope.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Derek. Because he'd warned him about the Wolfsbane, but that didn't mean Kate was out there, waiting for just the right moment to get him alone and--

Stiles huffed. It wasn't like Derek was an easy kill. He didn't worry most of the time. (Or at least, he didn't lose quite this amount of sleep over it.) He needed to chill out. They hadn't seen Kate at all. No more killings had occurred. Things were quiet. Things were okay.

He supposed that was the worst part, because that was when things tended to go wrong.

He got up and walked to the window, looking out at the yard, the treeline, wishing his eyes would get heavy enough to sleep. He'd thrown off his schedule.

That was when he saw her, standing in his front yard, looking up at him with a glassy stare. Stiles pushed the window open and looked down. “Allison? What are you doing up? And... here?”

She clambered up the tree and onto the roof. She didn't say anything.

“A-Allison--” Stiles stammered. “Y-you okay? Uhh...”

She reached out and cupped Stiles's face in her hand, sliding it down the side of his neck. Stiles tensed up. “What are you _doing?_ ”

“You need to stop asking questions,” she hissed suddenly, her voice dark and gruff and very unlike her.

Stiles's eyes grew wide.

It started with a prick of pain in his belly, and then it bloomed outwards, through his gut. He felt the blood leaking onto his shirt, warm and sticky. She turned away from him with the bloody knife and climbed out the window in stealth. Stiles stumbled backwards, his hand falling to the wound as he made wordless sounds, the pain paralyzing him in his place. He reached for his phone, sliding it off the desk with numb fingers before hitting the floor with a resounding thud. He took a small breath, his eyes tearing.

Why? Why had she done that? Allison wouldn't...

Stiles tried to twist onto his side and the pain was too much. “UWAAGH!” he gurgled, reaching for his phone.

“Stiles? _STILES!_ ” he could hear his dad's voice, breaking through the ringing in his ears. His vision blurred, blacking out at the edges until it was all darkness.

…

He couldn't tell Scott. He couldn't tell Scott. He couldn't tell Scott.

But Scott was gonna ask. After all, Scott's mom was at the hospital. Stiles didn't remember getting stitched up or bandaged up or anything, but he remembered seeing her when he woke up. And his dad.

“Stiles,” his dad said in earnest. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I... I dunno,” Stiles answered softly. “I couldn't see. I-It was so fast... Sorry.”

“Stiles... was it Derek Hale?”

“What? No!” Stiles gasped. “What?”

“His fingerprints were around your windowsill.”

“No. It was... a woman. That's all I remember. A woman.” Stiles forced a laugh. “I remember thinking that the 'Crosse team would never let it go that I got taken down by a chick because I'm so easily... wooed.”

“Did you recognize her?”

Stiles swallowed. “...No.”

He looked at Ms. McCall with urgency. “Please don't tell Scott I was here. He'll freak out, and... he doesn't have to. I mean. I'm fine, right?”

“Well, she missed your vital points. But you don't want your best friend to know you got stabbed?”

“Just... please, don't.” Stiles's voice felt raw and hollow in his throat, and tears threatened his eyes. So that was the end of conversation. “Can you guys just... leave me alone? I wanna get some sleep. I'm really tired.”

Stiles's dad frowned, and he could see the wrinkles in his forehead. He wanted to grab a pencil eraser and rub them away so he wouldn't have to think he was the cause of them.

“Okay,” he relented, patting his son's knee. “I'm right outside. You can call me or page Ms. McCall. Whatever you need.”

Stiles was in the hospital for two days, and he texted Scott telling him he had the flu and was stuck in bed at home to keep him from worrying. Ms. McCall never told him where Stiles actually was, so he never came bustling in to the room full of fear and questions.

Stiles knew he had to tell Scott what happened. But he didn't want to. He just didn't understand. Allison... she was _good._ Yeah, she'd snapped a little after her mother died, but he got that. Mom's dying were kind of a big thing in a kid's life. He continued to feign ignorance about his attacker, even when his dad pushed on Derek Hale being at his window.

“Derek and I are... sort of... friends now, Dad. He hung out with me last night. But he was gone long before I was attacked. Let it go. If I remember anything, I will tell you.”

“Okay. But Stiles, if he threatened you not to say--”

“He's my _friend_ , Dad. Please stop asking me about him.”

Stiles hauled himself out of the police cruiser outside of Beacon Hills High, annoyed that he couldn't drive himself. His dad had insisted. In fact, his dad had been pretty much glued to him since the event. Stiles definitely loved and appreciated it, but it made it hard to research what had been going on around town.

“If you need anything, just call me. I'll come pick you up. You're sure this isn't too much for you?”

“Dad, I'll be fine. Go to work.”

He definitely didn't want to leave. That, Stiles could tell. But his dad pulled off the curb and slowly drove down the street. Stiles waved at him in the rearview mirror.

“Hey!” Scott greeted, looking a mixture of relieved and overjoyed. “Feeling better? Tried to bring your homework and stuff but Mom refused to let me out of the house. She said I didn't need to get sick.”

“Did you tell her werewolves don't get sick?”

“She didn't care.”

“Figured. No big, dude. I didn't necessarily want homework. How much did you get done without me distracting you?”

“Most of it, honestly.”

“I also figured on that.”

“Hey Stiles! Hey Scott!”

Stiles froze. Allison, Lydia, and the new girl were making their way down the stairs,and Allison had greeted him first.

“H-hi.” Stiles felt anger boiling in his gut. How _dare_ she act like nothing happened?! She had fucking stabbed him! And he saw no remorse in her eyes, not even a twinge.

Maybe he'd been wrong about her the entire time.

But...

“You okay?” she asked, her face twisting in concern. Stiles glared at her.

“I don't know, Allison. Am I?”

“What?”

“Stiles, what are you mad about?”

“I'm guessing you didn't tell him, then. Maybe I should.”

“I... don't know what you're talking about,” Allison said, confused, knitting her eyebrows together.

Stiles grabbed Scott's arm and yanked him away, stalking off to where they could talk privately.

“Dude? Why were you being a dick to Allison?”

“Because _this,_ okay?!” Stiles turned around and yanked his shirt up, revealing the bandaged wound in his belly. “Because she did this to me. I wasn't sick, Scott. I got fucking stabbed in my bedroom two nights ago. She threatened me because I was asking too many questions and she stuck a knife in my gut. That's why. Your girlfriend is not as nice as you think she is.”

“That's... that's impossible,” Scott said, looking mortified.

“Well, it happened. You still think Kate isn't back?”

“She... she didn't seem to know anything about it---”

“Well most people who stab their so-called friends try to play it cool when questioned about it.”

“Stiles--”

“No! Don't you _dare_ take her side, Scott! We have been best friends since we were kids. I would _not_ lie to you about this! I swear to God, Scott.”

“Just... just let me talk to her, okay?”

Stiles felt his heart drop in his chest. “Talk to her? What's left to say? You stabbed my best friend? Get out of my fucking face?! I didn't rat her out, Scott, but I should've. I fucking should've. Scott, Derek was _right_ about her!”

“Don't say that!” Scott yelled back. “What if you're wrong?! What if it wasn't her?!”

“I _saw_ her, Scott! I looked her right in the eyes when she pushed the knife in my stomach... and there was no life in them, Scott. No remorse. Nothing.”

“What if she was... I don't know. Possessed or something?”

Stiles shook his head. “Don't do this, Scott. Don't try to talk around it. I need you to be on my side this time. I need you to.”

“Stiles, I know she didn't do this. She's not capable of--”

“She nearly killed Erica and Boyd, Scott. Just because she loves you and can't bring herself to hurt you doesn't mean she isn't willing to take down others in the process.”

“Her dad wouldn't be okay with this.”

“Kate would!”

“Kate's _dead_ , Stiles!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you're wrong, Scott. Maybe you're fucking wrong.” Stiles shoved Scott out of the way, all but running away from him.

He sat through two classes, but he didn't learn a thing. He sat and stewed on Scott's stupid face and Allison. He was pretty convinced she was a fucking harpy or a siren or something. Because Scott was his best friend and he didn't believe him. He'd seen her. He'd fucking... seen her.

And yet a little part of him didn't believe it himself...


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning the favor.

Chapter Six

Stiles pulled his hood over his head, keeping a low profile, because he'd decided to play hooky for the rest of the day. He at least had a valid excuse if anyone stopped him, but his dad would be angry if he found out he was hoofing it home. But Stiles had to. He needed to get out of the building because he felt like he was suffocating. The air was too hot, and he couldn't get his brain to function. He just needed time. And air. He needed air.

Nothing made sense. Why would Allison attack him? And hell, even if she did get a crazy hair about her and wanted to go around stabbing people, why didn't she kill him? Was it a warning? For who, Scott? Well, that didn't fucking work, because Scott didn't believe his best friend because Allison's eyes were too pretty or her boobs were too perky or. Something.

_Man, fuck Allison and her perky boobs._

Thunder rolled over the town and it rattle Stiles's bones. He looked up at the ever-darkening sky and cursed.

“God damn it. Not now.”

And as if to say _Oh yes, right the fuck now_ , rain started dropping from the clouds. Stiles grimaced and huddled into his jacket, quickening his speed as much as he could with his stab wound smarting. The anger he still felt at Scott pushed him forward, because he sure as hell wasn't going back to that building to face him. He turned a corner and rushed under an awning of a small shop that was closed, hoping the rain would stop and he could keep going. Not that it mattered. He was already soaked.

He waited for a few minutes, tapping his toes with feverish energy, and was about to step back onto the sidewalk and keep moving when Derek's black Camaro pulled up by the curb.

His window slid down and he peered at Stiles through the curtain of rain. “Stiles?”

“Sup,” Stiles replied a little half-heartedly.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh. You know, chillin.” Stiles tried not to wince when he leaned against the wall.

“You're bleeding,” Derek said.

Stiles looked down at his stomach. Yep. He sure was. He could see the blood staining his jacket.

“Get in,” Derek commanded.

Stiles did, flopping into the passenger seat, quiet.

“You want me to take you home?” Derek asked after a long moment of silence.

“Whatever, man. Do what you want.” He leaned against the window and looked out.

“What happened?”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “I... I got attacked in my bedroom a couple of nights ago. Stabbed with a knife.”

Derek's hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I...” Stiles looked down at his hands, pink on the fingertips from touching his stained clothing. “I don't want to believe...”

“Who did it, Stiles?” Derek pulled the car to a stop with a jarring motion. “ _Who did it?_ ”

“It was... it was Allison.”

“Son of a bitch...”

“But it wasn't! It... it couldn't have been Allison, Derek. She couldn't have done it. Scott doesn't even--”

“Scott doesn't see Allison for what she is!” Derek threw the car back into drive and took off down the road at a quicker speed, anger setting his jaw.

“You don't see her for what she is either, Derek,” Stiles argued, his voice strained. “I just... I don't know. I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't...” Stiles winced, holding his belly, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling tears slip out of the corners. “I just thought he'd... _believe me._ ”

Derek pulled the car to a stop again, outside Stiles's house. “He's... scared. Probably scared that you're right.”

“Yeah, well, I'm scared of that too.” Stiles rubbed viciously at his eyes. “Ugh. Sorry. I just... I feel like I'm losing everything here. It's all happening so fast. Everything is different. I gotta go.”

Stiles bailed out of the car, feeling his composure teetering on the edge of the abyss. All the pent up frustration and worry in him was threatening to explode. Derek was faster than him.

“Stiles,” he said over the roar of the rain. “Stiles, hold on a second.”

“What, Derek? _WHAT?!”_ Stiles whirled on him, and he wanted to punch Derek in the face, because he was just fucking similar enough to Scott that it might have made him feel better.

Derek grabbed Stiles's arm with one hand, shoving the other into Stiles's guts. Stiles gasped as the pain bloomed and then warmed and warmed and warmed, white hot in Derek's palm. Stiles's eyes rolled upward, the pain dissipating with a long breath filling his lungs. His back arched and his head fell back and all the pain was gone. Derek hissed, sucking air in his teeth as the pain traveled up his arm in long black swirls before finally fading into his skin. Stiles let go of a breath he hadn't been holding and careened forward, lightheaded.

“Woah.”

Then he started crying. He couldn't help it. It had felt so fucking good, and he was starting to think he'd forgotten what pure goodness felt like. His shoulders shook and his face contorted and he drooped into Derek's chest. Derek stood stock still for a long moment.

And then he ran a hand up and down Stiles's back. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I know it sucks.”

It'd been the exact sentiment Stiles had given him when shoving his head under the cold water of the faucet. It was strange saying it. Normally, Derek would've wanted to say something rude, to get the Stiles back that he was used to. But he also knew that it really _did_ suck to have people you really depended on desert you. That was just something he couldn't be cruel about. He recognized that pain like the face of an old friend. Stiles clung to Derek's jacket and sobbed. Derek sighed and wrapped his arms around him, shielding him from the rain.

“Just take a breath, Stiles. Just take a breath.”

“Feel like... like I'm drowning.” He pulled back, wiping at his face, even though they both resembled drenched rats at that point. He sniffed. “Thanks.”

“Welcome to war.” Derek put a hand on Stiles's back and led him to the front door.

Stiles didn't look any better. He looked really fucking weary. Way too weary for a guy his age. He opened the front door with shaky hands, and Derek couldn't tell if it was because he was nervous or because he was cold.

“You're soaked. You should dry off.”

“There are towels in the laundry room,” Stiles said, half-heartedly gesturing in the direction of it and slumping onto one of the steps on the staircase.

Derek kicked off his boots and ventured into the house to find a towel. When he grabbed a couple from the laundry room, he returned to Stiles and dropped it unceremoniously on his head.

“Hey!” Stiles scrambled a little, senses suddenly cloaked.

Derek dried his own hair and face, ignoring Stiles's protests. Stiles eventually flailed his way out of the large beach towel Derek had grabbed, it drooping around his neck.

“Was the beach towel necessary?”

“You were really wet,” Derek replied easily, hanging his jacket on a hook by the door and squeezing out his shirt tail.

“Not any wetter than you.”

Derek shrugged. “Do you feel better?”

“I guess. I'm tired. I'm pissed off. Kinda wanna slam my head into a wall.”

“Well, that wouldn't help you much.”

“If I had the ability to heal from it it'd probably be pretty gratifying, actually.”

Derek smirked. “Hm. I guess I can see your point there.”

“You know Peter offered me the Bite?”

Derek froze.

“I refused him. Told him I didn't want anything to do with it. He told me I was lying.” Stiles sighed. “And I guess he was right. Who doesn't want super strength and the ability to heal and all that? I guess I just didn't want the complications. And yeah, it's hard to keep up with you guys sometimes. But I feel like maybe I'm...better suited as a human. Not necessarily part of the pack, but, you know. Here to help.”

“You are part of the pack, Stiles. You don't have to be a werewolf to be part of the pack.”

“See, that... that actually does make me feel a little better.”

“I know Scott believes that too. You're his best friend.”

“I'm not really feeling it right now.”

“He's not going to pick Allison over you. He's probably just... covering his bases.”

“Or you're lying. Look. Eventually, Scott is going to pick someone over me. That's how love works. And that's okay. I just hope that he's not picking someone that wants to kill me. Or you. Or anyone, really. I feel like he could make a better decision than that.”

“Scott doesn't know what love is--”

“Yes. He does. It's not some stupid infatuation he feels for her, Derek. He's young. He's crazy. He's an idiot. But he _feels_ so strong. That's why I took to him in the first place. He doesn't just jump into things like that. His dad left, y'know? He was afraid that love didn't actually exist. And she keeps him grounded when the moon is high and he goes nuts. I... I can't do that. And that's okay, I guess. It's... part of why I don't want to believe that Allison attacked me. I don't know.”

Derek settled next to Stiles on the step, even though it was a tight fit. He frowned. “You saw her with your own eyes.”

“Yeah but. There was something... off about her. I was looking right at her but I didn't... _see_ her.” Stiles sighed. “I dunno. Maybe I should tell my dad I got a ride home? I don't want to get up. I don't want to move. I just want to stop moving for five fucking seconds, stop running, stop researching, stop everything. I'm so tired. Sorry for snotting up your shirt by the way. Didn't mean to turn into a blubbering idiot.”

“Mm, blubbering is fine at the right moments, I guess. You got fucking stabbed. Pretty sure that qualifies.”

Stiles leaned into Derek's side and closed his eyes. “Been a long year.”

“Yeah. You've got hair and everything now,” Derek replied, tugging at the damp tips of Stiles's hair, not really realizing how close they actually were.

“Mm,” Stiles mewled, closing his eyes. “So tired. You can do that forever.”

“You've come a long way from threatening me and having me thrown in jail.”

“Did I ever apologize for that?”

“You probably did. At some point. It's fine. I owe you for the other night after all. If all I have to do is scratch your head, I'm definitely getting the sweeter part of the deal.” Derek paused. “Stiles?”

Stiles had gone limp into Derek's side, his breathing soft and slow and steady. Derek sighed, scooping him up and carrying him up the stairs and laying him gently on his bed. He unzipped Stiles's hoodie and peeled it off of him, letting it drop to the floor in a sopping heap of fabric. He frowned, looking around the room, not really knowing where anything was.

“Hm.” He hummed a little before digging through Stiles's drawers, looking for some clothes. He couldn't let the guy sleep soaking wet.

Then Stiles rose up, looking a little lost and dazed. “Whuh,” he murmured wordlessly, stumbling to his feet and pulling the third drawer on his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt, almost like he didn't even see Derek standing there. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor and pulled on a fresh one.

“Stiles?”

Stiles waved a hand at Derek before grabbing a pair of sweats off the floor and smelling them. He shrugged and sat down to change out of his jeans into them. Derek watched in muted confusion.

“You okay?”

Stiles flopped into the pillow on his bed and was immediately asleep again. Derek pulled the blankets up to Stiles's shoulders, then sat on the foot of the bed for just a few minutes. He needed to talk to Scott. Yeah, he and Scott weren't on the best of terms, but things seemed to be taking a turn for the worse. Pretty typical. He scratched at Stiles's hair one more before heading for the stairs.

Sheriff Stilinski was just coming in the door when Derek hit the bottom step. Derek stood like a deer in the headlights. Stilinski raised his eyebrows, then narrowed his eyes.

“I uh... took Stiles home,” Derek said awkwardly.

“Derek Hale. Stiles said you two were friends now. Wanna explain that to me?”

“Not really.”

Stilinski crossed his arms.

“He just... uh... had a rough day. I picked him up and took him home. He's asleep.”

“Did he rip his stitches?” the sheriff asked, suddenly concerned and heading for the steps.

“Uhh, no. He's fine. Just... just tired.” Derek tried to put on a smile as he crossed to the front door, but he felt awkward and out of place. “School was probably too much for him is all. You know how spastic he gets.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” Sheriff Stilinski stood on the second step for a few moments. “You've been hanging around a bit. You didn't... you didn't see anything the other night, did you? When Stiles was attacked?”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. It's fine. Take care, Mr. Hale.”

Derek nodded curtly, grabbing his jacket and pushing his feet into his boots. “You too.”

He shrugged on his jacket and walked out.

…

“What?” Allison's eyes were wide and upset. “You're lying.”

“That's what he said.”

“Scott. Scott, I didn't--” Allison immediately started to tear up at the idea, as much as she hated crying. “I swear to you I didn't. I would never hurt Stiles.”

“I know you wouldn't. I know.” Scott cupped Allison's face in his hands. “But I... I don't know how he saw you there.”

Allison grew serious, swallowing the rest of her emotions. “Scott. I have to be honest with you. If I did it – if I really went to his house to kill him – I wouldn't have missed a vital organ. I wouldn't have.”

“I knew that too...”

“Scott. What else are you not telling me? You're hiding something from me.”

“Allison...”

Allison pursed her lips, angry. “Tell me, Scott.”

“Derek said... when he was attacked... that he saw... that he saw... Kate.”

Allison's face fell. “What?”

“Yeah. He said he saw Kate. But I don't know if I believe that. I think he could've been hallucinating.”

Allison's eyes jumped around the room, a sign that she was probably about to freak out a little, maybe lose her cool. “I have to tell my dad.”

“No! No you don't. You do not.”

“Scott--”

“We have no proof that she's back, Allison. Her grave was untouched and no one else has seen her.”

“He's not your enemy, Scott.”

“I know that, but--”

“He could help. Maybe he knows what could be really behind it.”

“I dunno...”

“Behind what?”

Scott jumped so badly he toppled off Allison's bed with a thud.

“Dad, the random checkups are not necessary. He's not my boyfriend.”

“Uh huh.”

“ _Dad._ ”

“I was just leaving, Scott said, looking embarrassed and rushing past Chris Argent. “Text me. Bye!”

He jumped on his bike as soon as it was in sight, but only made it about five feet down the sidewalk before Derek Hale pulled up next to him.

“Not you,” Scott groaned.

“Get in. We need to talk.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People seem more interested in Stiles's social life than in the crazy shit that's going on.

Chapter Seven

It was the most uncomfortable car ride of all time. Scott was pretty sure the only one that would be more uncomfortable would probably be riding across from the Joker in a police van. Or something of that sort. The ride was so silent. Scott felt like Derek would choke him for his muddy bike tires all over his back seat, but Derek didn't comment on it. He didn't fucking say. Anything. At. All. It was kind of terrifying.

“Scott,” Derek said after the longest time that ever existed. Seriously, Scott was certain he was going to be a skeleton before Derek spoke. “I talked to Stiles.”

Scott wanted to bash his head through the window and die, guilt pouring over him like hot acid. All he managed was to look down and utter, “Oh.”

“Yeah. And I see you talked to Allison.” It sounded like Derek was doing all he could to keep the malice out of his voice.

“She said she didn't do it.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yeah, I do. But I believe Stiles too... I don't know. Something freaky's going on, Derek.”

Derek breathed through his nose. “I've noticed, thanks.”

Scott chewed his lip, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “I... I don't know where to look. I don't know who to talk to. I'm desperate, Derek. I don't want anyone else getting hurt.”

“I know. I feel the same way.”

“I'm... I'm so fucking mad. I wasn't there to... to help him.”

“Stiles can handle himself better than most.” Derek squeezed the steering wheel. “But I seriously doubt you're gonna be doing much protecting him if you keep making him feel like you're not on his side.”

“I just want to get the facts straight!”

“Scott, you want everyone to be lovey-dovey and friends, but that's not how the world works. Sometimes people are bad. Sometimes they do bad things, even when you never expected it. Sometimes they let you down.”

“And _sometimes_ you should trust your instinct instead of thinking history only repeats itself.”

“Scott.”

“Derek, I _want_ to trust you. I want to trust Allison. This town is getting reamed by supernatural bad guys and we're the ones that have to stand up to fight it. All of us. We did it to take down Gerard, but we were sloppy. We're nearly fucking died because everyone had their own agenda. I just don't see why we can't get on the same page.”

“Because the Argents are trying to _kill us?_ ”

“I don't think so!” Scott glared at Derek. “I... I think someone wants us to think that.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Think about it, Derek. I just told you that we're the defenses for this town. If something supernatural wants to take over, why not pit us all against each other until we're all destroyed?”

“That... makes sense.”

…

“Lydia? Are you sure about this?”

Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder, pulling Faye by the hand. “Will you relax? That fake ID was flawless. They're not gonna question us. Now have a drink and dance!” She swiveled her hips easily, the ruffles on her skirt bouncing in a strange mixture of sex and innocence. “Come on! Didn't you party like this in New York?”  
“I don't know anyone here!” she yelled over the music.

“Why do you think I brought you here? Dance, Faye. Dance.” Lydia grabbed her by the hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

Bodies writhed and slithered around them like snakes among the flashing lights and confetti. It was like walking inside a fishtank. Nothing moved at the same tempo and everything had a different hue to it. Lydia loved it. Not for the dancing or the drugs being passed around, but it was like observing humans in their true natural habitat. It was absolutely fascinating. And she'd brought Faye to do just that. She'd done the same to Allison. This was where people made their impressions on Lydia Martin. She could exert her control over them like a black widow spider or a praying mantis, and only a few select people made her cut.

“Come _on,_ Faye. Don't be lame.”  
She kind of bounced along to the music, not actually looking at Lydia but peering across the room.

“What?” she asked.

“N-nothing. I just think that's some of our classmates.”

“Hm?” Lydia squinted her eyes, looking through the groups of anonymous, shadowed faces, and hey, she was right.

Isaac was standing against the wall of the club, looking bothered. Danny was clearly intoxicated and... well, he was definitely hitting on him.

“Hey!” Lydia greeted, dragging Faye behind her.

Isaac nodded acknowledgment. “Hey.”

“Did you come here with Danny?” Lydia asked, smirking. “Oh wait. I don't care. You two dance with Faye.”

“What?”

Faye looked down at the ground, suddenly shy. “Um.”

“She's new, Isaac. Dance with her.”

“I don't see why that-- okay, fine.” Isaac looked way too annoyed at the prospect, but he was annoyed by most thing.

“Come on, baby,” Lydia laughed at Danny. “Get off the boys for a minute and dance with me. Was your ex an asshole again?”

“Maybe a li'l,” Danny slurred.

“Jackson would get such a thrill out of you drunk. You should drunk sext him. He always bitches when you do that, but he loves the ego boost.”

“Wherrre is he?”

Lydia frowned, coming down a little bit from the high of the party. “I don't know.”

Danny made a face. “Don' look so sad, Lyd.”

She smiled at him. “I'm fine. What are you talking about?”

They danced, wild and carefree until she lost sight of Faye and Isaac in the whirl of lights and people and alcohol.

…

Stiles opened his eyes, feeling heavy. The moon was peeking through his window curtain, so he knew it was probably late. A glance at his alarm clock confirmed it. It was a little past eleven. He yanked up his shirt and pulled his bandage back. His wound looked closer to a scratch than anything. He touched it gently. It was still just slightly warm to the touch, like Derek's hand had been printed there. Stiles smiled a little, feeling his face heat up a little at it. Then every alarm in his head that ever existed went off and he immediately shut that shit _down._ He sat up and scratched at his neck, looking around the room as if Derek would still be there.

He got up, walking slowly out of the room. His dad was still up, glancing over files.

“Hey Dad.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, getting up to help Stiles to a seat. Stiles waved a hand at him.

“I'm better, actually.”

And it was true. He'd kinda blown up earlier, gotten it all out. And things definitely weren't perfect, but he felt like he could face them with a little more dignity and a little less tears. He sat across from his dad.

“You want something to eat? I can make you something.”

“I'm good, Dad. Thanks. I think I'd actually really like to go grab some chilli cheese fries.”

“We can go-”

“I really wanna go on a drive, Dad. Can I _please_ have my keys?”

His dad hesitated, like he wanted to ask Stiles something. Stiles's eyes darted around the room. He suddenly felt accused.

“Where are you _really_ wanting to go?”

“What?”

“Are you gonna go hang out with Scott?”

“Well, er, no. We're kinda touchy with each other right now, but we'll be fine--”

“So you're gonna go see Derek.”

“Whaaaaaa-haaaaaat?” Stiles's eyes grew to the size of saucers and he stared his father down, waiting for explanation.

“He was here earlier. Came strutting out of your bedroom, no big deal. Told me he took you home.”

“He did.”

“Why was he in your room?”

“Dad, are you... are you interrogating me?”

“Come on, Stiles. I haven't heard you say a word about this guy and then all of a sudden he's here all the time? I'm curious. I should be curious.”

“He's just....um. He's my friend, Dad. That's all. I, uh... needed someone to talk to today.”

“Stiles, you know you can tell me anything.”

“I-- I know. I just... it's complicated. But it's gonna be alright. I know it's gonna be alright.”

“You're sure?”

“Yeah, Dad. I'm sure.”

“Take your keys. You better come back with food.”

Stiles embraced his father.

“And you're sure there's nothing you wanna tell me?”

“Stop, Dad.”

“Okay.”

He changed into some jeans and a t-shirt and went on his merry way. He dialed his cell phone as soon as he was out of the driveway.

“Stiles?” Scott answered.

“Hey. You with Derek?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What say we do some recon over chilli cheese fries?”

“Uhh... sure?”

…

Derek made a face at the fluorescent lights of the little fast food place. It was practically deserted except for a couple of staff members that clearly didn't want to be there. Stiles was already at a table with a pile of greasy fast food in front of him. Derek raised his eyebrows. Certainly a kid that skinny couldn't stuff down that much food.

“The usual?” Scott asked in good humor.

“Yeah, bro.”

Scott shuffled on his feet for a second. “...Are we?... Are we cool?”

“We will be,” Stiles said. “Go get some food.”

“Okay, cool. Derek?” Scott offered, gesturing to the counter.

“No thanks.” Derek waved it off. He was not a fan of fast food, the grease, nor the hum of the lights over him. They pestered his senses. He supposed Scott just tuned it all out.

Scott hopped over the bars with ease to order his own massive mountain of food. Derek slid into the hard plastic booth.

“How do you eat this stuff?”

Stiles shoved a chilli cheese covered gob of _something_ in his mouth and swallowed. “It's delicious.”

“It's all over-processed, greasy, goo. You're basically eating plastic.”

“Delicious, delicious plastic.”

“Not the dinner of champions.”

“Yeah, well it's after midnight and I'm hungry.”

“Enjoy your nap?”

“Yeah, actually.” Stiles nudged Derek's knee with his foot, talking through a mouth full of food. “Thanks.”

Derek nudged back with his knee. “You're welcome.” He smiled. Stiles shared it. Then they washed them away as Scott came galloping back to the table with three burgers, five large fries and a giant soda.

“You're both disgusting.”

“We're teenagers. We eat like teenagers. I'm pretty sure you've put plenty of this junk in your body.”

“Laura made sure we ate healthy. Healthier bodies mean better fighters. This stuff just weighs you down.”

“See, I've been trying to tell my dad the same thing,” Stiles said, then looked down at his crumpled wrappers. “Guess I'm not making a very good example of myself.”

“You need to learn to cook.”

“I can cook.”

“Stiles, you nearly set the house on fire last time you tried to make Pop Tarts in the microwave,” Scott argued, laughing.

Stiles's face went bright red. “Okay, I didn't know you weren't supposed to put the wrapper in the microwave, okay?!”

“Did you know that _Pop_ Tarts go in the toaster?” Derek chided, leaning on his hand, beyond amused at the information.

“I thought it would be faster.”

“It takes maybe a minute to toast a Pop Tart. Why on earth would you need that to go faster?” Derek laughed. He couldn't help it.

“I was hungry!” Stiles yelped. Scott was rolling in his chair. “And it was only on fire for like a second.”

“Stiles, I will make a deal with you,” Derek said. “If you promise to never eat Pop Tarts again, I will teach you how to cook.”

“That does not sound like a sweet deal to me. I love Pop Tarts.”

“You won't want them after I teach you.”

Scott looked between the two of them, intrigued and a little confused.

“We'll see,” Stiles said, smirking. “We shall see, Derek Hale.”

“So ummm,” Scott said after a second, looking like he was interrupting something. “Derek and I were talking, and I think maybe someone's trying to set us and the Argents against each other.”

“That'd make sense, I guess,” Stiles said, chewing slowly and deliberately. “But why Kate? Why Allison? And better yet, why me? If someone wanted to pit werewolves and hunters against each other, why attack the human? And why didn't either of us get killed?”

Scott furrowed his brow over his food. “I dunno.”

“Well we better figure it out soon. My guess is that Allison went after you because it's a deeper wound to hurt loved ones. Scott, you should make sure your mom is safe.”

“Yeah. She's been working pretty nonstop. She might not be on her guard.”

“Get her on her guard,” Derek said. “And you need to be more careful too, Stiles.”

“Thanks, Derek. Pretty sure the stab wound already told me that,” Stiles deadpanned. “But listen. I remember something. I remember Allison... before she stabbed me – she told me to stop asking questions.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it was like a warning. I don't know.”

Derek sniffed at Stiles's chilli cheese fries, his stomach growling. He grabbed a couple and munched on them, thinking.

“Hey!”

“Stiles, you have ten tons of food in front of you. I don't think you'll miss a couple fries.”

“What, you don't want to _eat like a champion?_ ”

“I'm hungry. Don't judge me.”

“I will judge you as much as I please.”

Derek grabbed a handful before Stiles could stop him. It wasn't amazing, but Stiles's face was.

“I will pour my drink in your lap, asshole.”

“And then you would be fry-less and drink-less. Bad move.” Derek made a show of dropping each fry into his mouth and chewing them with glory on his features. “You should plan more.”

“Coming from the guy who'd rather attack first and ask questions later? Okay.”

“Should I leave?”

Derek and Stiles turned away from their argument to Scott, sitting quietly next to Stiles.

“What?”

“Should I _leave_ ,” Scott said again.

“Why would you ask that?”

Derek's phone buzzed. Derek wiped his hands off on some napkins and grabbed it, pressing it to his ear and scooting out of the booth. He walked outside and leaned against the brick wall. “Isaac?”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party hearty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god tell me to stop writing this I am producing way too many words right now.

Chapter Eight

Faye was pretty, sure. Isaac recognized that. In the glow of the black light and the sparkle of the strobe, she was even prettier, actually. But Isaac wasn't really interested in how pretty she was, or really anything about her. He wasn't trying to be an asshole. He just didn't want to be at that stupid club. He'd only gone because Danny had asked him to be his wingman. And since Danny fell in love easily and got his heart broken just as easily, Isaac figured, why not. It would be a nice thing to do and Danny was awesome. But clubs were loud on his ears and people kept hitting on him and that was weird. Especially because Danny loved everyone when he was drunk, including Isaac.

Also, he was a really awkward dancer. He kind of bopped along to the music and wished Erica was there, because she was the funnest person to go clubbing with and he didn't feel self-conscious with a fellow werewolf around. She was off with Boyd for the evening. Date night. She didn't really seem to give a fuck about what had been going on with the Argents. _Until shit goes down, we probably won't know anything,_ she'd said, _Just like always. Might as well enjoy ourselves while we wait._ Isaac wasn't really doing either.

“Isaac? Are you listening?”

Nope. He hadn't heard a word. And she'd been talking the whole time. Wow. He blinked, putting on a smile. “Y-yeah. Haha, wow.”

“Right?” Faye swirled a straw in her drink. “People here are insane. Look around. Humans just writhing on each other, not even caring what's going on around them. A bomb could drop and they'd all be too busy with their own lives to even notice.”

“Heh... yeah,” Isaac murmured, suddenly uncomfortable. “I'm guessing you don't like Beacon Hills much. You miss home?”

“Oh, no. I actually do like it here. I just wish people would notice what the hell's going on outside their immediate circles. It's like everyone's living in a bubble.”

Isaac swallowed. “What... do you mean?”

Faye smiled and it was pretty, but there was some strange sparkle in her eyes that sent a chill down Isaac's spine. “I'm sorry. I'm not great with conversation. I've never had many friends.”

“Pretty girl like you? I doubt that.” Isaac smiled back at her, trying to squelch the fear in his gut. Hey, she was pretty. He could flirt. He could have fun.

“Aw, you're sweet. Like a little puppy,” she laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I could totally keep you as a pet, hm?”

What a weird way to flirt. Isaac gave a nervous chuckle, casting his eyes over the sea of people, trying to locate Danny.

“Drink?” Faye asked, holding up her glass.

Isaac eyed it for a second.

“Drink it, Isaac,” Faye said.

He suddenly didn't feel like he had a choice. And he didn't like that.

“No thanks,” he replied. “Not thirsty. Um. Have you seen Danny-”

“ _Isaac._ ” Faye huffed. “I'm really trying here.”

“Trying to do what, exactly?”

“Be friendly,” she answered. “I'm trying.”

“Oh, um. Sorry. I'm not exactly super friendly myself. I mean, uh. You came with Lydia right? Where is she?” He pulled out his cell phone.

Faye grabbed his wrist and her hand was hot. He stared at it. “Who are you calling?” she asked.

“N-no one.”

“What are you afraid of, Isaac?” Her voice was low and a little husky in her throat, and it seemed to almost pulse through her arm and into his.

Isaac stared her down. “I need to... I need to find my friend---”

“Why? The party's just beginning.”

Fog machines went off and the room grew smokier and smokier until Faye's face was distorted and fading away. She let go of his arm.

His claws had sprung from his hand. “Wha--” He reached out. “Faye?”

He heard her body topple from the barstool and hit the floor, saw her silhouetted on the ground. He jumped back out of his own chair, looking up to see people going down like flies. “Shit shit shit shit!”

His head spun as he pulled his phone out, rushing the door with the few people who'd managed to stay up, even though they were crawling. He saw Lydia clambering for the outside before rolling on her side and vomiting, clutching her stomach. Isaac grabbed her arm, tried to drag her out the door before his knees gave out and he was coughing, tasting blood. Derek's voice was distant on the other line.

“Isaac? Isaac, where are you?”

“D---Derek,” he sputtered, pulling himself closer to the door. He could hear people moaning and screaming. _It burns. It burns._ “It's... this club... The... Warehouse 13.” Isaac grimaced, tasting bile. “H-help--” His phone slipped from his fingers. He looked up to see Kate Argent smirking down at him. She stomped on his phone and it shattered.

…

“I was asking if I should leave because you and Derek look like you wanna bone on this table.”

Stiles choked on his soda. “What?”

“You don't think I saw you two playing footsie? And all the flirting? Jesus, dude. I felt like I was third-wheeling a date.”

“We were arguing. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Please. I've only seen you look at one other person like that and _that's_ Lydia. I know what you look like when you like someone.”

“You're nuts.”

“Am I?”

Derek came back into the place in a rush and all the blood had run out of his face. “Get up,” he commanded. “We gotta go.”

…

“Warehouse 13? Why the fuck is Isaac at that club?”

“I don't know. He was too busy choking at me while people were yelling _It Burns It Burns_ in the background. Then his phone went dead.” Derek throttled the car and zipped around a corner. Stiles was amazed it didn't hit on only two wheels.

Derek and Scott perked as Derek slammed the brakes of the car. “You hear that?”

“Yeah. It was Isaac. He howled.”

“There's the place,” Stiles said, pointing ahead of him.

It was an old warehouse, converted into a dance club about a year before. It'd been shut down once already for allowing teens in with fake IDs but it quickly reopened as soon as the case was closed. At the moment it looked like a slaughterhouse. The front doors were open and bodies were hanging out in the night air, unmoving.

“Isaac!” Derek yelled, bailing out of the car and rushing to the slumped, skinny figure, wheezing on the ground. “Isaac, what happened.”

Isaac gripped at Derek's shirt. “C-can't... breathe...”

Stiles saw the black blood dripping from Isaac's nose. “Move.” He pushed Derek aside and poured a small bit of the antidote into his hand. It was powdery and it fucking burned. He pressed it to Isaac's nose. “Sniff.”

He did. He gasped in air, coughing and sputtering as the oxygen hit his lungs. He slumped into Scott who caught him. “Derek... Derek was right,” he said, and his voice was pained. “Kate. Kate was here. I saw her.”

Derek turned to run inside but Stiles grabbed his wrist. “No!”

“What?” He looked back.

“I already told you. The air in there is toxic for you.”

“It's toxic for everyone in there.”

“Yeah, but _especially you!_ I'm not letting you go in there.”

“Stiles-”

“NO!” He was determined. His eyes ached with the effort he was glaring Derek down. “No, Derek.”

“Stiles, we gotta stop her,” Derek said and his volume dropped. Stiles still refused to let go of him.

“Let me go in first. If I can turn on the sprinklers it'll wash it out. Then Scott can go. But not you.”

“ _Stiles-_ ”

“I'm not budging on this.”

“You think I'm gonna let you go in there? It's just as toxic to you if not more so!”

“It'll only take a minute. I can go in the fire exit. The alarm will be on the wall.”

“What if Kate shoots at you?”

“She won't waste her Wolfsbane on me. But you need to watch out.” Stiles looked to Scott. “Let me do this.”

“Stiles,” Isaac breathed. “Lydia's in there.”

Scott let out a frustrated breath and started dialing his phone. “I'm calling for ambulances.”

Stiles rushed for the building, bursting through the door. The second the noxious air hit his skin, he flinched. It burned, prickling over his fingers and up his arms and over his face. He squinted his eyes shut as they watered in the smoke. He could see bodies piled on top of each other in the mist, like a mass grave. He shuddered, trying hard to hold his breath as he scanned for the fire alarm. And _there!_ He reached for the red handle and yanked it. Sprinklers set off and an alarm blasted Stiles's ear drums. He made for the door, tripping over bodies that were wriggling and twitching. He searched for Kate. For Lydia.

He found one of them. Lydia was by the front door, curled up, her teeth gritted.

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled, pulling her out into the open. “Lydia, talk to me.” Then he scratched violently at his skin because he felt like ants were crawling underneath it, all over, eating him alive.

“Uaaaagh!” He yelled, toppling backwards. Derek grabbed him before his head hit the steps.

“Why did you stop to grab her?!” Derek was enraged, but Stiles could see terror in his eyes.

“Mother fucker!” Stiles hissed, because nothing eased it. He could hear sirens approaching. Lots of them. “Derek--”

Derek pushed a hand to Stiles's chest. He growled as the burning sensation leaked from Stiles's chest and up his arm, disappearing.

“Hey, your body makes a pretty good filter for healing this stuff,” Derek half joked, looking a little exhausted.

“Let me help,” Isaac said, getting to his feet. “How much of that antidote do you have left, Stiles?”

Stiles looked at the vial. “Not much. Probably about half.”

Scott rushed to Lydia, healing her as much as he could, cringing as the pain snaked through him. “Fuck!”

Lydia gasped, jolting upwards. “Oh my God,” she breathed, clutching Scott's shoulder. “Oh my God, it was in the fog machines. The _fog machines._ ”

“We know.”

“That stuff kills within two hours, Scott--”

“Ambulances are on the way. We can heal who we can but we can't go back inside.”

Lydia stood up, looking frantic. “But _Danny_ , Scott! And-- and _Faye._ ” She wrenched out of his arms. “There's no cure for it, Scott! You know what hospitals do? They stabilize the patients and hope they recover!”

The ground next to Scott exploded with the sound of a gun shot and he jumped out of the way, pulling Lydia with him. Derek pulled Stiles in closer, and Stiles followed his eyes to the roof of the building.

“It's like cockroaches,” Kate said. “Turn on a light and watch them scatter.” She aimed at Derek. Stiles yanked him down by the jacket and the bullet narrowly missed him, actually trimming a few errant hairs from his head before lodging itself in the side of the Camaro.

Derek's eyes flashed bright red and he was on his feet, roaring at her in mere seconds. Stiles could see the rage shaking in Derek's hands, claws bared.

“Derek, not here. People are coming.” He could see the red lights of the ambulance flashing over the trees. “Derek.”

“ _KATE!_ ” Derek screamed.

“Derek, no!” Scott yelled, turning, eyes wide at the approaching ambulances and police.

Stiles grabbed Derek's hand, tight in his palms, closing his eyes, pleading with him. “Derek... this is not your fight. Not right now.”

Kate looked on the horizon, sneering. She turned and stepped down from her high point, disappearing behind the tall concrete. The tension in Derek's hand started dwindling and he bowed his head, his features returning to normal.

“I'm sorry Derek. I'm so sorry,” Stiles said, and he didn't know why he was apologizing, but he felt like he had to. _Someone_ had to.

Derek's fingers wrapped around Stiles's hand.

…

“You want me to say you were right?”

“Yes!” Derek growled, pacing, still agitated and hyped from everything that happened.

The moon was starting to hang low in the sky. Scott looked beyond exhausted. He had taken the wolf pack into the hospital with his mother's help, and they had healed where they could. At least no one would die. Not that evening. Erica had crashed out, her head on Boyd's leg, and Boyd didn't look too far behind her. Isaac was asleep on the floor.

They were all at Scott's house, camped out in the living room. Derek looked drawn, like he was wasting away. And he was so _angry._

“Fine. You were right!” Scott relented. “But that doesn't change what we're doing. We need to regroup. How is Kate cultivating this stuff?”

“It's impossible,” Lydia said from her chair. She looked a little spacey and warped, like she was when Peter had invaded her mind. Stiles wondered if she was always like that around Peter. “Yellow Wolfsbane is rare. It doesn't grow that easily. It would have taken some serious magic to cultivate in that large an amount.”

Peter folded his hands in thought. Stiles was glad Ms. McCall was busy at the hospital with all the club-goers, because knowing Peter Hale was in her house probably would not have boded well.

“Kate's got access to pretty crazy stuff.”

“But not magic-crazy,” Stiles said. “That's not how she operates. You know that.”

“I also know that she's willing to do whatever she can to make sure werewolves suffer,” Peter replied smoothly, but there was a deadly lilt to his tone that made Stiles want to shut up.

“Don't take this out on him,” Derek seethed.

“Stop being a brat, Derek,” Peter chided, leaning back in his chair. “You've had a long night. We should regroup in the morning. You're too tired and pissed off to think clearly.”

Derek grasped at his temples. “I'm thinking plenty clearly. Don't fucking mock me, Peter.” There was a dangerous gleam in Derek's eye.

Peter returned it without fear. “I'm simply saying that being an _Alpha_ , you probably should learn not to lose your cool in front of your pack.”

Derek had Peter against the wall before he could even take a breath, his claws digging just enough into the sides of Peter's neck to draw blood. Peter just chuckled. The pack was all fully awake, scared.

“It's hard being angry all the time, isn't it?”

Derek released him and bolted out of the room with a growl.

“Word to the wise,” Peter said, wiping the blood from his neck with his fingers. “Anger isn't always the best anchor to have.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So that happened.

 Chapter Nine

Derek didn't come back. Peter left. Stiles sat up for a little bit but finally drug himself out to his Jeep and home.

“I know,” Stiles said the second he got in. “I didn't come right back. I went and got burgers with Scott.”

“Stiles, I saw you outside Warehouse 13.”

“Oh. Well, to be fair I wasn't lying completely. I did go and get burgers with Scott.”

“Why were you there?”

“Our teammate called us. We didn't know what was happening. We went to check it out. I swear, Dad. We didn't know what was going on. We just went to pick him up.”

His dad rubbed his eyes, looking tired. “Look. I gotta go to the station. Please, _please_ go to bed?”

“Okay, Dad. And uh... for what it's worth. I'm sorry. For worrying you all the time.”

“You're my son. Even if you weren't out getting in trouble, I'd worry. I'd appreciate if you wouldn't try so hard though.” His dad patted him on the shoulder and headed out the door. Stiles closed it behind him.

Guilt. _Ew. I hate guilt._ Stiles sighed and headed up the stairs. He could at least do what his dad asked of him. This time.

He pushed open his bedroom door and took a step back.

“Derek?”

Derek was sitting on his bed, quiet, his head in his hands. He looked up at him in the dark, only the light from the hallway catching his face, casting shadows and making his features sharp. He looked rough, even worse than before. The adrenaline had run out. He no longer had the rabid energy that had been running through him after the encounter with Kate. Now he was just weary, a shell. He didn't look angry anymore. Not anywhere close. He just looked sad.

“Derek, say something,” Stiles said, and his voice was soft and pleading.

“They... they don't understand. They don't get it. It's... it's _different_ with her. I--” Derek threw his hands up. “I don't know.” He ran his hands down his face and bowed his head again.

Stiles crossed the room slowly, silently, almost afraid to spook Derek in his fragile state. With his shoulders hunched and his head bowed he looked so damn small. That just wasn't something associated with Derek Hale. He curled around Derek's body, embracing him, holding him.

“Tonight... was the first night... in so long... that I lost control,” Derek breathed into Stiles's chest. “I've never been more angry. And I lost control. It's like... no matter what I do, she's always there, taunting me. I wanted to kill everyone-- then you...” He wrapped his arms around Stiles's waist. “I didn't know where else to go.”

“It's cool,” Stiles replied lamely. “I mean. Happy to help. I guess.”

“You shouldn't have gone in there.”

“I know.”

“You could've died.”

“I know.”

“I--” Derek pulled back and the intensity in which he looked at Stiles scared him a little. “I could not stand the idea of losing _one more person_ to that-- to that-- _bitch._ ”

“Derek, I'm not hurt. I'm not dead. I'm not going anywhere.”

“No. Not yet.”

“I can protect myself--”

“So. Could. _THEY!_ ” Derek stood, his eyes flashing red, then back to their blue-green hue. “And every single one of them is gone.”

“Derek, if you want to stop giving a shit about me, why are you here?”

Derek pushed him against the wall, eyes furious, threatening. Stiles didn't back down. Didn't even flinch. Derek wouldn't hurt him. He knew that. Derek could get as angry as he wanted. But Stiles had grabbed his hand, felt him soften with the simple touch. And that was exactly what he was doing. He looked at every spot on Derek's face, taking in all his features. _This seems familiar,_ Stiles couldn't help but think. But then Derek was kissing him and all thoughts left his head.

Stiles parted his lips, letting out a small sound of surprise, arching in to Derek until he was as flush with him as possible. He grasped the sides of Derek's face, closing his eyes and kissing him back a ferocity that surprised even him. He fought a losing battle for dominance and he didn't care because it made it last longer. Derek's hand rested on the wall behind him, the other on the curve of Stiles's back, and he just kept curling until he was certain he'd be doing a back bend. Derek moaned, a pained sound that vibrated on the back of Stiles's throat, but Stiles refused to let go. He'd keep it going til his lungs burned to dust if he had to, because he was so fucking scared that if it stopped, Derek would leave. He would run. Derek broke away, kissing down Stiles's jaw to his throat. Stiles was still gasping for air, his lungs thankful for the release, but his heart beating too fast to assist. Derek's large, hot hand crept up under his t-shirt and Stiles fell back against the wall, nearly knocking his head in the process. It was all just a sensation of _too-much-too-much_ and _more,moremoremore._ He scrambled for purchase on Derek's arms, craning his neck to give him space.

When he pulled away, his chest was heaving and his eyes looked dazed. His hands lay, white-hot on Stiles's abdomen. Stiles didn't want to admit it, but he was pretty sure he'd wanted... _that_ for a little while. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, realized he's knees were wobbling and forced himself forward instead of going slack against the wall. He nearly toppled into Derek, feeling a little weak after it all. Apparently Derek was feeling the same because soon enough they were collapsing onto Stiles's bed, tangled in each other. Stiles was too tired to move. Too tired to do anything but breathe in Derek's scent and cradle himself in the warmth of another body. He felt... _safe._

And he was certain that it was exactly what Derek wanted.

…

_So warm_ , Stiles thought, snuggling, feeling heavy and floaty at the same time. Sleep drifted in and out of Stiles's mind. He couldn't quite bring himself out of it. He let out a long sigh of contentment, curling into Derek's side. Derek. Derek?

_Oh yeah,_ Stiles remembered. _That happened._

It was a little weird. Okay. A lot weird. But it was also... okay. Nice.

Derek's hand carded through Stiles's hair as he stirred. He made a low noise in his throat, shifting. Stiles finally opened his eyes, looking up at Derek, pressing his chin against Derek's chest.

“Good morning,” he said, grinning.

“More like afternoon,” Derek replied, stretching underneath Stiles. His muscles twitched against Stiles's skin.

“That sounds a little more right.” Stiles sat up, popping his back. “Ohhh, I don't think I've slept that well... ever.”

Derek slid an arm around Stiles's torso, sitting up and pressing his lips to the curve of Stiles's neck.

“You don't think this is a little crazy?” Stiles couldn't help but ask.

“It definitely is. But isn't crazy pretty much default setting nowadays?” Derek's voice vibrated against Stiles's skin, low and husky with sleep.

“Yeah, probably.” Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket, a little amused that he was still in the clothes he'd worn the night before. For a second last night he was fairly certain he'd be waking up naked. “Twenty-three unread text messages. Jesus Christ, Scott.”

Derek crawled out of bed, stretching up toward the ceiling. Stiles watched his shirt ride up before glancing back at his phone.

“What's he talking about?”

“A lot of it is bitching about you. Surprise. He says that most of the club-goers have already made full recoveries... asking where I am, why I'm not at school – yeah because I'm gonna go learn on one hour of sleep. Fuck that – blah blah blah. Call him.... Urgent?” Stiles shrugged. “Okay.” He looked at Derek as he pressed it to his ear. “Scott?”

“Where are you?”

“At home. You may want to check there before freaking out.”

“Are you coming to school today at all?”

“Well school is out in like an hour, so. No. Why?”

“I think... I think there's another werewolf in the area. Isaac and I both smelled it when we were at practice.”

“That's just what we need,” Stiles groaned. “Awesome. I'll meet you there. Give me like... ten minutes.”

He hung up, kicking his feet out of bed. Derek stared. Stiles knew that he heard Scott on the other line.

“I know,” Stiles said. “It rains it pours.”

“Let's just hope it's not an Alpha,” Derek sighed, shrugging on his jacket and opening the window.

…

“Weren't you wearing that yesterday?”

“Isaac, that is not important,” Stiles said.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Derek zip up his jacket as if he could hide that he was _also_ wearing the same thing. But damn, Derek probably only had about three outfits total. Scott gave Stiles's eyes and Stiles quickly looked away.

“So where'd you smell this werewolf?”

Derek eyed the treeline.

“Why don't you howl for her, Scott?” he asked vaguely after a moment.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Her?”

Derek pointed to the horizon. There, crouched down in the grass, was a figure, dark hair hanging over her face, tangling into gray mats. She didn't look old at all. Her eyes were wild and bright, glowing bright blue. Her plump red lips matched the smatters of blood on her face and hands. Derek drew his claws, a precautionary measure, and approached, slowly. Scott and Isaac and Stiles crept behind.

“Tell me who you are,” Derek commanded.

“I-- cc-can't.” She cowered into the tree, clutching it in her clawed fingers. She let out a little whimper like she was in pain. Her eyes looked to Scott and she reached for him. Scott's eyes widened as he stared a her, sadness drawn on his face.

“Why can't you tell us?” he asked gently, kneeling in front of her.

She pulled the collar of her shirt down, and it revealed strange, red markings on her skin, all the way around her, like a collar. Or a chain.

“What is that, Derek?”

“I don't know.” Derek looked just as shocked as the rest.

Stiles whipped out his phone and took a picture. He had a feeling Lydia or Allison could tell them.

“Let us help you,” Scott said.

The girl grabbed hold of his collar, ripping it with the intensity that she pulled. “You should leave--- you need-- to leave.” She screamed out, the red marks glowing. She ripped away from Scott and bolted, running off into the trees. Scott moved to go after her but Derek stopped him.

“Don't. You follow her, she'll only hurt more. She's not supposed to be here.”

“She told us to leave.... She knows something, Derek. She knows what's going on...” Scott trailed off, sniffing. He took a whiff of Derek, then turned to Stiles, looking scandalized.

Stiles felt his face heat up.

“What?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing. Scott's being foolish as usual.” Derek glared at Scott. “Okay. Something is controlling that girl. I'm betting if we figure out what, we will find out who brought Kate back from the dead.”

“Magic cultivation of Wolfsbane? Bringing people back from the dead? Collaring werewolves? We've got our hands full,” Isaac sighed. “I doubt Lydia's gonna know anything about this.”

“I know someone who might,”Scott said softly, nervously.

Derek glared at Scott. “No.”

“Derek--”

“ _No._ We do not need the Argents involved in this.”

“They already are! And I think Allison's dad is gonna wanna know if his sister is gunning people down beyond the grave.”

“Scott's right,” Stiles voiced before Derek could argue.

Derek looked at Stiles like he'd been betrayed, pouting.

“Oh, don't look so depressed. He helped us with Gerard; he'll help us now. You guys can go back to yelling at each other when people aren't dying.”

Derek huffed. “Fine. Text me that picture. I'll talk to Peter. See what he has to say about it.”

“You sure Peter's gonna wanna see you after your little episode last night?” Isaac asked.

“What episode?” Derek had actually forgotten. Stiles felt his ears burn red, wondering what Derek was thinking. “Oh. No. He'll be fine.”

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles a little too hard by the arm and dragging him off toward the Jeep.

Stiles caught Derek's eye as he was pulled away, offering a rather sheepish grin, then took off with Scott. As soon as they piled in the Jeep, Scott whipped his head to stare Stiles down.

“...What?”

“He smelled like you. No. He reeked of you.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“ _Stiles--_ ”

“Ihavenoideawhatyou'retalkingabout,” Stiles spat quickly, pulling the car into drive and squealing his tires into the street.

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't.”

“No you don't.”

“Yes I do-- agh, damn it you Bugs Bunny'd me.”

“Sure did. Now tell me what happened.”

“Can this wait? We've kinda got more pressing issues---”

“No.”

“Scott.”

“Tell me, Stiles!”

Stiles sighed pulling over to the side of the road, squeezing the steering wheel, nervous. His heart was hammering in his ears and he knew Scott could hear it – stupid werewolf ears.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Don't freak out.”

“Stiles, you're my best friend. Just tell me!”

“Derek and I kinda... made out... last night.”

“ _WHAT?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!_ ”

“I asked you not to freak out!”

“I am totally freaking out! Why? _WHY?!_ ”

“Uhhh... I don't know. I didn't think there was usually much of a _why_ to these things except to... uh... _STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M DISEASED._ ”

“But Stiles, it's _Derek._ ”

“I'm aware. I am very much aware. I know it's crazy, and it was totally unplanned, but it happened and – and yeah. It happened.”

The tension in the car eased in a long moment of silence. Stiles settled a little in his seat, put the car back in Drive and pulled off the curb.

“So uh... is it gonna happen again?” Scott asked, and he was giving him those stupid puppy eyes that Stiles could never ignore.

“I... uh... I don't know.”

“Do you want it to?”

“Maybe- oh look, we're here. Go say hi.” Stiles literally pushed Scott out of the Jeep. He stumbled a little and glared back at his best friend.

Stiles didn't care. He waved Scott forward. “I'll be right here when ya get back.”

Scott rolled his eyes and made his way to the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have been a bit hungover for the end of this chapter? So... yeah. :P
> 
> New werewolf lady is based off of [Liz Gillies](http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/liz-gillies/images/30567248/title/liz-photo).


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing makes sense.

 Chapter Ten

Scott was mumbling. “Freakin' Stiles. Dropping a bomb like that and expecting me to go talk to-- Mr. Argent! Hi.”

Chris Argent was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame in his t-shirt and jeans looking very unamused.

“Scott,” he greeted blandly. “What a surprise.”

“You've been expecting me?”

“I'm always expecting you, Scott. What kind of werewolf hunter would I be if I didn't?”

“Well, I mean, you're not hunting me...”

“You're not currently trying to sleep with my daughter... _are_ you?”

That was not a question. It was definitely a threat.

“N-no. Actually, I'm here to see you.” Scott felt panic rise in his throat. “Not to sleep with you of course! But--- uh... erm...”

Well, that urged the sensation to slam his head through a plate glass window. Chris raised an eyebrow.

“And why are you here to see me, Scott?” He stepped aside, allowing him into the house. Scott looked back at Stiles for support. He was staring listlessly out the window, completely out of it. Wonderful.

“Well, um... Chris,” Scott started lamely. “Can I call you Chris?”

“You can call me Mr. Argent.”

“Okay, yeah. Cool.” Scott ran a hand through his hair wanting to scream. “Listen. I know you know supernatural things have been going on.”

“Pretty typical nowadays, but yeah. I gathered that from you talking to my daughter the other night. And the murder in the woods. Werewolf. Definitely not my doing.”

“Yeah, well. Here's the thing.That werewolf? She was an Omega. And Kate killed her.”

There was a long moment of silence as Chris processed what Scott said. Then, he replied, “Excuse me?”

“I'm not lying. Derek saw her. And then I saw her at Warehouse 13! We... we all did. He wasn't hallucinating. I thought he was too.”

“That's impossible.”

“Lots of things that happen here are impossible. Seriously though. She's been cultivating types of Wolfsbane – super lethal, even to humans. She nearly killed an entire building of people, _innocent people_ \--”

“I'm well aware what Kate is capable of. But I went to that club after the attack and--” Chris crossed his arms. “She's not capable of that. Kate is a hell of a shot. She's an offense-is-the-best-defense kind of girl. Taking the time to not only grow and chemically alter Wolfsbane but to create an entire ploy to use it widespread?”

“She was there. She shot at me. And those bullets melted that Omega's face off. And...” Scott breathed through his nose. “Lydia says there might have been... _magic_ involved. She said it's impossible to grow that much Yellow Wolfsbane without magic.”

Chris narrowed his eyes, nodding, thinking. “And that is _definitely_ not like her. So how...”

“Maybe she's desperate.”

“Well, I mean, Gerard was desperate enough to try to become a werewolf to save his own life, all while trying to kill them. But where would Kate find the abilities to use magic to that extent?”

“I don't know. Probably where she got her life back?”

“Don't get sarcastic with me, McCall.”

“You can call me Scott.”

“Anyway, _McCall._ I'm a little curious about this magic. Any clues?”

Scott pulled out his phone and showed the pic Stiles texted to him and Derek. Chris furrowed his brows.

“I... I recognize that, I think. I've got a stack of books in the attic. I'm going to see what I can find. Maybe this girl was resurrected as well?”

“I don't know. She's a werewolf too. But she was terrified to talk to us. Like someone might have been... listening.”

“I'll be in touch.”

“Cool. Thanks. Is Allison home?”

“No. Goodbye, Scott.” Chris opened the door and gestured for Scott to leave. So he did. He tried not to fight Mr. Argent when it wasn't necessary. “Be sure to talk to Deaton too. If we can figure out how she cultivated the Wolfsbane, we can try to find out how to mass produce the antidote. Innocent people are involved.”

“I know. Thanks.”

“Scott?”

He paused at the door.  
“You're sure it's Kate. You're absolutely sure.”

“I saw her with my own eyes. I don't know what else it could be.”

Scott actually felt bad. He could see the hurt in Mr. Argent's eyes, which was to be expected. There was no good way out of it for him.

…

“What's up with Scott?”

Derek glanced at Isaac as they stomped through the woods. “What do you mean?”

“You know. Back at the field. He was looking at you funny.”

“His face just looks like that.”

“Ha _ha._ No seriously, what's wrong with Scott?”

“I don't know. His jaw is a little crooked I guess.”

“Wow, you're being sassy today. Should I start calling you Stiles?” Isaac grinned. Derek rolled his eyes.

“No.”

They approached the old Hale house with the usual precaution. Derek was never quite sure if his hesitation was because of enemies or because of Peter (which probably could fit into the former category at times), but his guard was always heightened. Erica and Boyd were chilling on the porch though and that significantly eased his worries.

“Bout time you two showed up for something,” Isaac chided. “I was beginning to think Derek and I were the only ones in the pack.”

Erica raised an eyebrow, not taking her eyes off Derek. “Why do you smell like _Stiles_?”

“We were just _with_ Stiles.” Derek was immediately annoyed.

“No no. Not both of you. Not _we._ You, Derek. _You_ smell like Stiles.”

Isaac paused, slowly casting his eyes on Derek as the statement took hold in his mind. Derek crossed his arms, not backing down from Erica's unspoken accusation.

“So?”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“That's not an answer.”

“That tends to be how I answer stupid questions.”

“Stiles almost died last night. Derek healed him. Maybe that's why,” Isaac shrugged it off, heading up the steps to sit next to Boyd. “Sup Boyd.”

“Where's Peter?”

“Not here,” Boyd said. “Probably out sniffing around for Kate. After you wailed on him the other night, he's probably steering pretty clear of you. No one likes an angry Alpha.”

“Maybe he should ask Stiles to help next time,” Erica added, smirking. “He seems to have an awfully nice effect on you.”

“Don't be stupid, Erica.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “He... he _did_ calm you down pretty well when Kate was shooting at us. That's pretty impressive.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not what I'm here to talk about.”

Fucking werewolves. Were there no secrets between anyone anymore? Derek didn't want them in his business. What happened with Stiles... that had been... well, a moment of weakness. Yeah. That was it. He had definitely hit a low point, and the warm arms and sweet eyes were just...

“Text me when he shows up.”

“Oh, don't be a sourpuss,” Erica chuckled, puckering her lower lip.

Derek scowled, grumbling as he made his way back to his car. He was certain Erica was giggling about it to the rest of the pack even though she knew _nothing._

So yeah, he'd stuck his tongue in Stiles's mouth a few times. And on his neck. And jaw.

And maybe he'd thought about kissing other places. Briefly. Maybe he liked the scent it left on his skin hours after their encounter. Maybe he liked the idea of not feeling so fucking alone. But things were nuts. People were in trouble. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

It couldn't happen again.

…

Stiles gasped into Derek's mouth, pulling him to his bed by his shirt tail. Derek yanked Stiles's skinny legs up around his waist, pinning him to the bed, hands on either side of him. Stiles writhed against him, Derek nosing into his neck.

“God,” Stiles moaned. “I've been thinking about this all day.”

Horny teenager? Not surprising. Derek reached for Stiles's fly, popping the button. Stiles made an excited noise in the back of his throat and sat up, yanking his t-shirt over his head and diving back in for more, kissing Derek hard and needfully on the mouth.

Then Peter called.

Derek leaned against Stiles's shoulder, frustrated as he pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear.

“Hello Peter.” Stiles smiled, and then he started giggling. Derek clapped a hand over his mouth. Stiles proceeded to slide his tongue over Derek's palm. Derek cringed.

“I hear you found a werewolf.”

“You would be correct. You weren't home. Where were you?”

“Looking for your long lost love.”

“Fuck you, Peter.”

“Ah, but see, I actually got one of her shell casings. She wasn't as careful at the club. I think you surprised her. She definitely wasn't there for you that night.”

Stiles was still sitting in his lap. He could hear the conversation taking place. He stopped messing with Derek and leaned forward, listening.

“Pretty sure I'm at the top of her hit list.”

“She definitely _hit that_ at one point--”

“Stop with the fucking jokes and get to the point. Who was she there for?”

“Well, I'm assuming she was there for Isaac, considering she was there with her werewolf-melting bullets.”

Derek was puzzled. Stiles was too. He reared back, realization mixing with confusion over his face.

“That doesn't make sense,” Stiles murmurred.

“Is someone with you?” Peter asked.

Derek frowned. “Stiles is here.” He wasn't about to lie.

“And how exactly can he hear me with human ears? He'd have to be in your--”

“You're on speaker, dumbass,” Derek lied. “Welcome to the world of technology.”

He thanked whatever power was up there that he wasn't talking to Peter in person, because his lies would be obvious with his shifting heartrate. Fucking werewolves.

“Fine. Why was she there for Isaac?”

“Hang on.” Derek pulled his phone down and texted the picture of the lone wolf to Peter. “Look.”

“What _is_ that?”

“I'm thinking it's some sort of spell. Other than that, no idea.”

“Old looking. A little tribal looking. You're sure it's not just some fancy tattoo?”

“Yeah, because a werewolf wouldn't heal from a tattoo. Come on, Peter.”

“I was only being facetious.”

“I'm aware. But you're an asshole so I enjoy calling you on it.”

“Really?”

“ _Immensely._ ”

“It does run in the family, Derek.”

“Do you have anything useful to tell me?”

“I gave the shell casing to lovely Lydia.”

“I don't care, Peter. I could've found that out on my own.”

“So irritated.” Peter clicked his tongue. “Am I interrupting something?”

Derek hung up, tossing his phone aside. Stiles gave him a lopsided smile.

“He pisses you off so bad.”

“You're not his biggest fan either.”

“I _knowwwww._ Could you just, like, kill him again?” Stiles whined.

“With all the ghosts popping up in my life? No thanks.” Derek rubbed at his eyes, feeling stress prickling behind them. “Stiles, what are we doing?”

“Nothing, unfortunately. But we do have the option to change that.”

“I told myself that I wasn't going to come here today. That I can't afford to get distracted.”

“And then you came here, climbed through my window, and here we are. You... you are not very good at self control, huh, Mr. Hale.” Stiles was teasing.

Fuck. It was cute.

Derek wasn't sure if he liked how making out with someone morphed everything about his opinion of them. Not that he disliked Stiles. He was just worried that he liked physical contact too much. He'd kind of forgotten how much he'd missed it. He'd been on his own for so long...

And there was something a little different with Stiles. With Kate, he'd been infatuated. And it'd been hot sex all the time. But she had hidden things from him. And he knew that. When she betrayed him, the scariest part had been that he wasn't completely surprised. It made it feel more like his fault. Stiles had his quirks, and sometimes they were stupid, but he was fucking loyal. He'd never met anyone so willing for people. He envied that, but he also felt it could be Stiles's undoing – like it'd been his.

That made him want to shield Stiles from all of it. He never wanted Stiles to find _his Kate._ He never wanted to be that.

“Too far?” Stiles asked. “You're quiet. You're mad.”

“No. No. I'm not. I swear.” Derek sighed. “I'm just...” Derek frowned, embarrassed. “Nervous.”

“Psh, you think _you_ are? At least you've been laid before. I mean, I've seen it done every which way but I can't imagine--”

“Stiles.”

“Sorry.”

Stiles sighed. “So... is this, er... not happening?”

“I don't know.”

“Derek,” Stiles said. “I know this is weird. I know this is... well, kind of fast. But I also know that I really like you. And trust me, I tried really hard to hate you. So I'm assuming that somewhere in that statue-faced, angry-faced facade, there's something really awesome that got me.”

“And you have no idea what that might be.” Derek felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Honestly no,” Stiles replied. “Or at least I can't name it. But I will say this.” He leaned in close, mere centimeters from Derek's lips. He could taste Stiles's breath as he spoke. “I've watched you for, oh, the past year or so. I've seen you give everything you have for people who really gave you nothing in return. You've bitched and moaned and complained but you've always shown up when needed. And you care. A lot. You are not as cold and angry as you want everyone to believe.”

“I don't want anyone to believe anything.”

“What _do_ you want, Derek? Seriously. What do you want? Why are you here? Tell the truth.”

He had no answer. Not one he could verbalize.

“I... have no idea what I'm doing,” Derek sighed. “But this... This... I...”

“What?”

“The other night. When I lost control. You grabbed my hand.” Derek grabbed Stiles's hand as if to demonstrate. “And everything just sort of... shut down. The anger went away. I just... I needed you. Right then. Right there. And there you were.... I don't want to use you. I've always had my anchor and it's... it's dangerous having it be a person--”

“Having it be anger is just as dangerous.” Stiles rubbed Derek's knuckles with his thumb. “And don't you think I'm in enough danger as is? It's not gonna change that. My best friend's a werewolf. The guy I'm currently making out with? Also a werewolf. And then there's all their friends. Who are werewolves. Not super scared of that.”

“You know how to pick 'em, huh?” Derek laughed a little, shaking his head.

“I know. I am smart but I don't get too much credit for it. Maybe it's because of the company I keep. Heh.”

“Maybe.” Derek nodded, leaning into Stiles's neck.

Stiles shuddered a little. “Ooh, prickly.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Fair enough.”

Derek picked up where he'd left off, nibbling gently at Stiles's neck. He felt a low rumble in Stiles's throat. And then his phone rang again.

“God damn it!” Stiles laughed, falling out of Derek's lap in a heap. “Can you please turn that thing off?”

“Oh come on now. By Scott's experiences, something terrible will happen if I do that.”  
“It's probably just one of the pack giving you hell because werewolves can't keep fucking secrets.”

“I know right?” Derek peered at the screen, making sure to lean over Stiles instead of away. He pressed it to his ear. “What.”

“So rude,” Stiles whispered, teasing.

Boyd was serious. “Hey. We have a problem.”

Well, what else was new?


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble trouble trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence... lots and lots of it.

 Chapter Eleven

“What. The. Fuck.”

“I told you.”

Stiles straightened the hood on his head, partly because it was fucking freezing, partly because it was his favorite red hoodie, and partly because Derek had left a nice hickey on his neck before his phone had rung again.

That wasn't important.

They were standing on the roof of the high school, staring at the lacrosse field. All around it bloomed long, yellow flowers. Wolfsbane. The field looked like a fucking _meadow._

“Well, I wouldn't recommend a closer look,” Stiles said slowly.

“How are we going to practice lacrosse?” Isaac asked. “The field's surrounded. It's like a forcefield.”

“That's probably the idea. You think the landscaper could mow that shit down?”

“Maybe. And yet I have the sneaking suspicion it'd grow right back.”

“I have a feeling this has something to do with that werewolf girl showing up here yesterday,” Derek said. “Keeping her out.” He looked up at the sky. “Full moon is coming up.”

“So is our lacrosse match.”

“Convenient.”

“Right? Figures.” Stiles shook his head, thumbing his nose in the cold. “Fuck, it's getting cold. How is that stuff even growing in this chill?”

Derek dropped his jacket over Stiles's shoulders and inched to the edge of the room, squinting his eyes at the field. “Magic, most likely. That's what Lydia said the other night, right?”

“Yeah. Amazed you were listening through the rage sirens in your head,” Scott snarked.

“Oh. Oh wait.” Derek pulled back with alert eyes. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Scott asked.

Derek boxed his ears. “That ringing. It's kind of what rage sirens sound like.”

“Ow!”

Stiles pushed his arms into Derek's sleeves and zipped up the jacket. “Okay _children._ Can we try to focus please?”

Erica slipped an arm around Stiles's shoulders and pulled him backwards, pressed against him. She smelled deeply at his neck. Stiles's face went bright red.

“I was right. He smells like you, too.”

“Stiles is right. We need to focus.”

“Funny you should think that-”

Stiles ducked out of Erica's grip. “Okay, okay, let's stop talking now, hm? Let me go down and grab a few sprigs. We can at least burn them for more antidote.”

“That... doesn't seem safe at all.”

“Why? They're just flowers. They're not threatening to humans unless ingested.”

“I don't like that,” Derek butted in. “I can go get it.”

“Uh, no? It's still lethal to you in every form. I think I can handle a little flower picking. I am fully capable of that.”

“We don't know if that's pure Wolfsbane or if it's something much worse. Why not send Deaton to get it himself? It's obviously not going anywhere and he would no better.”

“Stop being such a worrywart.” Stiles turned to head down. Derek grabbed his arm harshly. He felt the leather crinkle in Derek's grip.

“Stiles, Kate doesn't really give a fuck who dies as long as she gets what she wants.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“Well apparently you're _not._ ”

“Ooh, lover's quarrel,” Erica chuckled.

“I can _handle_ it,” Stiles insisted, patting Derek on the chest with both hands. “Will you relax? I'll be right back.”

He smiled at Derek, trying to calm him down. He still looked pissed. Whatever. Just because he'd swapped spit with Derek a few times didn't mean that he was gonna let Derek boss him around. He wandered down the stairs and out of the school, toward the field. He could smell a sweet spiciness in the air as he approached. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly nervous. He didn't want to get hurt. Mostly he didn't want Derek to be right. He carefully walked up to a group of flowers, gazing down at them. They didn't look threatening at all. He was amazed at how toxic they could be.

He reached out and plucked a few from the ground.

“See?” He said, turning to the rooftop, knowing the pack could hear him. “No problem. Let's go!”

Pain blasted into his arm and he toppled over, eyes wide. He hit the grass with a gasp, glancing at the arrow sticking out of his arm.

“Okay, you must be mad at me or something,” he said.

Allison readied her bow again, another arrow flying at Stiles.

“Daaaaaah!” Stiles rolled out of the way, snapping the arrow painfully against the ground. “Please stop shooting at me!”

She didn't listen. An arrow penetrated the ground right where Stiles's thigh had been. She took aim again.

“Why the fuck are you trying to kill me?! Like, seriously Allison – AHH!” Stiles dodged another arrow, trying to climb to his feet. “What'd I _do?!_ ”

“You have no weapons. Surrender,” Allison said, and her voice was even and low.

“We'll see about that!” Derek dove at her from seemingly out of nowhere, knocking her to the ground. She kicked him over her with ease, firing an arrow at his back.

“Derek! Watch your back!” Derek ducked under it, twisting around, growling at her, his face distorted, eyes ablaze.

“Allison!” Scott was yelling, running at her. “Stop!” He took an arrow to the neck, it knocking him off his feet.

“She shot Scott. _She SHOT SCOTT._ ” Stiles was agape. Allison had snapped once and tried to take out werewolves but never Scott. _NEVER._ Scott.

“I know how to put a stop to this,” Erica hissed, fangs bared, running at her with Boyd and Isaac in tow. The three of them surrounded her, though none of them were in full form with all the Wolfsbane around.

Derek stood, gritting his teeth. Scott sat on the ground, looking lost. Stiles ran over to help him up.

“She shot me...”

“Are you okay, Scott?”

“I can't believe she shot me...”

“Scott!”

Derek wrapped a hand around Allison's neck, sinking his claws into the back of it. Scott panicked.

“Derek! No! Don't kill her! God, Derek, _please!_ ”

“You're _defending her?!_ ”

“She can't know what she's doing. She can't.”

Allison smirked at Derek. “Does it hurt? Knowing that he doesn't trust you?”

“Bitch,” Derek bit back at her, squeezing her throat a little more.

“This will hurt a lot more, I promise.”

She kicked her foot forward, a knifeblade popping from the toe of her shoe and straight into Derek's gut. Derek made a choked sound, his grip loosening on her neck. She dropped to her hands, twisting the knife in his gut as she shifted her body, then flipping free. She threw knives at the other three and upon their dodging, took off into the woods.

“Allison!” Stiles screamed, anger flooding his veins. “Come back here!”

He didn't know why he chased her. He had no chance at fighting her. No weapons.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled after him through a gurgle of blood in his mouth.

Stiles ducked into the trees, screaming after Allison, his arm pulsing with pain.

“Allison! _GOD DAMN IT, ALLISON!_ ”

He'd lost her.

But he'd found Kate.

There was a scratch on her cheek.

A bullet flew into a tree mere inches from Stiles. He could hold his own against a bow and arrow (probably), but he wasn't super prepared for _bullets._

“Well. Fuck.”

Scott howled. Stiles blinked, seeing one of Kate's bullets rip through Scott's arm. The world slowed and tilted as Stiles watched him fall. His best friend... his best friend.

“NO!”

Scott shook violently on the ground, his arm turning black, eyes glowing bright, scared.

“Scott. _Scott!_ ” Stiles crawled over to his best friend, pulling him into his arms, looking up at Kate, terrified and overwhelmed.

Then, there was a roar that rattled Stiles's bones. He hadn't heard something quite that extreme since Peter had been the Alpha and was attacking them. But it wasn't Peter.

A beast tore through the trees, red-eyed and vicious, heading right for Kate. Kate didn't look afraid. She looked... fascinated.

“So you're the Alpha.”

Stiles swore he heard her say it, but then he was stuck staring as the fight took place, Derek throwing her into the trees, splintering wood exploding around them. Stiles held Scott close to his chest as the ground rumbled underneath them.

“It's not... it's not even the full moon,” Scott gasped, and then he started coughing blood.

“Scott... don't die.... I'm gonna get you to Deaton. I promise. We're gonna help. We're gonna help.”

He started dragging Scott, gripping under his arms. It was hard. Stiles's own arm was smarting, and he could feel the blood running all the way down his hands.

“Stiles!” Isaac broke through first, jolting at the sight of Scott. “Oh my God, Scott's arm.”

“I know! I know!” Stiles grabbed his keys out of his pocket and threw them at Isaac. “Take him to Deaton. NOW.”

“What about you?”

“Fucking _GO!_ ”

Isaac threw Scott over his shoulder and took off running, keys in hand. Stiles heard the howl of a wolf in the distance. And he followed.

For a few minutes, the world went silent, only broken by the crunch of leaves and Stiles's breath. He couldn't stop thinking about Scott as he ran. He'd completely forgotten about his own injuries.

Scott's arm had turned black upon that bullet's _impact._ He closed his eyes and prayed. _Don't die Scott. Please don't die. I... I can't lose anyone else..._

Stiles tripped, plummeting to the ground in a pile of plants. A rather... overwhelming pile of plants. He looked up. The forest was overgrown in vines and leaves. And in the center of it stood the beast, hunched over.

“Derek?” Stiles murmured.

The beast turned to him, still enraged. She'd gotten away. They'd both gotten away.

“Derek... come back. We gotta help Scott. Derek?”

The Alpha roared and it was loud and frightening and dripping with pain. Stiles reached out slowly, touching Derek's large back. “Derek. Come back. Please... we gotta... we gotta go help Scott.”

Tears sprung to Stiles's eyes, and he couldn't stop them. The beast heaved underneath Stiles's hands, but he just buried himself into Derek's back.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles cried out, clutching to the Alpha.

He felt Derek's body shift and change beneath his fingertips. Stiles felt weak, his knees shaking. Derek turned around, enveloping Stiles in his arms.

“It's alright,” he whispered. “I'm back. Stiles?”

Stiles's eyes rolled upwards and he tried to stay up. He really did. But then he was going down, down, down.

“Stiles!”

His vision went black.

…

Allison closed the door to her car slowly, standing in her driveway, frowning. She couldn't stop the sneaking suspicion that she was being watched. She reached in her boot to pull a knife, and when she stood she was face to face with a blue-eyed, red-lipped werewolf. She bared her teeth, but there was no anger in her eyes.

“Who... are you?” she whispered.

“I'm so sorry,” the girl whimpered, then jerked, gripping at her neck in pain.

She attacked. Allison raised her knife to fight and got a good cut across the girl's chest – but not before her teeth sunk into Allison's neck. She gasped, shifting the knife in her hand to shove into the girl's back, kneeing her in the stomach at the same time. The girl wailed, stumbling back. Allison ran to her trunk, popping it and grabbing her bow and arrows. Her neck ached, hot and sticky with blood. She took a hollow breath, trying to steady her vision, sending an arrow at her attacker.

She missed.

“Shit.”

The girl whimpered, then screamed, rushing Allison with fear in her eyes. Allison faltered.

“Y-you don't want to do this, do you?”

Claws sunk into Allison's skin.

She made a small noise in her throat, falling back against her car, tasting copper. The werewolf lifted her head to the sky, as if hearing a voice from afar, and then took off. Allison touched the bloody wound in her belly. She slid slowly down to the ground.

She couldn't say a word. She could only sit there in pain and try to breathe.

…

Isaac nearly wrecked Stiles's Jeep. He was panicking. Kind of. A lot. Erica held Scott in her arms, worriedly glancing at him when she could bear it.

“He's so cold, Isaac,” she whispered, “God, he's so cold...”

Boyd ripped his jacket off his shoulders and covered Scott with it. “Hang on, man.”

“Keep your hands on him,” Isaac said, his voice hurting in his throat. “The pack helps.”

He pulled up in front of Deaton's office. In they ran.

“Deaton!” he yelled. “Let us through!” The mountain ash kept them from going further without invitation. “HELP!”

Scott started shaking, his eyes rolling back in his head. Erica screamed, lowering him to the floor as he seized, not knowing what to do. The black mark on Scott's arm had traveled up to his neck and down to his fingers. It was like he was rotting away. Deaton came from the back and immediately rushed for Scott.

“Go through. Help me get him inside.” His voice was calm like any doctor's, but his eyes betrayed him.

Isaac didn't know how they were going to help. He'd never seen anything like it. Those fucking Argents...

He was done. Scott could pine after Allison all he wanted, but there was no forgiveness when the pack was harmed. No. Fuck that. Fuck her and fuck Kate. It was over.

“What does this mean?” Erica asked.

“It means fucking war,” Isaac replied, feeling his eyes glow gold. “The Argents are our enemy. And when I get my hands on Kate, I'll make sure I rip her throat out.”

Erica and Boyd's expressions darkened in agreement.

Deaton looked up from Scott's shuddering form, worried. He emptied a syringe into Scott's arm.

“I need the Wolfsbane that she used. I've given Scott a paralytic for now. It'll keep it from moving, but not for long. We need the antidote or he's going to lose his arm.”

“Didn't Peter say he got one of her bullets the other day?”

“Yeah, he gave it to Lydia.”

“Then let's pay her a visit.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safety first.

 Chapter Twelve

Stiles's head hurt. And his arm was fucking killing him. He winced, trying to move for it, but his hands felt heavy. He cracked his eyes open, groaning.

“Shhh. Just a second.” Derek set Stiles on the ground, leaning him against the door of the Camaro. “I've got first aid in my trunk.”

“Derek, my head hurts...”

“You hit it pretty hard when you passed out. I'm sorry I didn't catch you.” Derek reappeared in front of Stiles, unzipping his jacket and sliding it gingerly off his shoulders, then taking to his hoodie with the same care. “I'm so sorry, Stiles.”

“Don't apologize,” Stiles slurred, exhausted. “I'm the one that insisted on going down there. Little mad that you were right though, heh.”

Derek sucked in air through his teeth. “It broke off uneven. This is going to hurt.”

Stiles yelled out as Derek dug his claws into Stiles's skin, extracting the arrowhead from his arm. Stiles nearly blacked out again, his body too tired from loss of blood to handle the pain. It was nothing when the memories started flooding his brain. Scott lying on the ground, shaking, his arm turning black. Handing him off to Isaac. Allison. Kate.

“Oh God... Scott,” Stiles breathed, panic rising in his throat.

“Don't move.”

Stiles's heart was racing, pounding in his ears. He breathed shallowly, eyes darting around. Scott. _Scott. SCOTT._

“ _Stiles_.” Derek gripped each side of Stiles's face. “Look at me.”

He did, tears leaking out of his eyes, his chest heaving.

“It's going to be okay,” he said, and his voice was strong and sure. “Stiles. It's going to be okay.” Derek kissed his forehead, and it was so gentle that Stiles immediately calmed down. “Let me finish this. We'll go see Scott.”

He stripped Stiles of his shirt, peeling it off of his arm with worry in his eyes. Then he quietly cleaned the wound and bandaged it to the sound of Stiles's breathing.

“I wish I could take some of the pain from it,” Derek sighed. “But the Wolfsbane effected my abilities a little.”

Derek slid his leather jacket back over Stiles's shoulders and it felt weird on bare skin. He listened as Derek zipped it slowly. Stiles's head drooped a little as he embraced the warmth. He was suddenly so tired.

“We're gonna see Scott, okay? Put your arms around me.” Stiles did, burying his face in Derek's shoulder as he was lifted. Derek carried him around the car and set him in the passenger seat. “You okay?”

Stiles nodded vaguely. He wasn't sure what to do. He reached in his the pocket of Derek's jacket and clasped his hand around sprigs of Wolfsbane. He'd managed to shove them in his pocket when Allison had fought him.

“I'm sleepy,” Stiles said.

“Don't sleep, Stiles. You might have a concussion.” Derek grimaced. “I should probably take you to the hospital.”

“No! We need to find Scott.”

“Scott's going to be okay. Right now I'm focusing on you.”

“I'm not gonna be okay if Scott's not okay. It'll be my fault. All my fault.” After all, he'd gone out to the field. He'd gone after Allison. Scott had taken the bullet to protect him.

“Stop saying that. It is not.”

“Let me ask you,” Stiles said, reaching over for Derek's hand. “When people told you it wasn't your fault that your family was burned alive, even when it wasn't, did you ever believe them?”

…

Lydia hummed to herself as she slipped into her pajamas. She didn't like the song much – it was pretty asinine with it's lyrics, but hey, it was catchy. She sauntered from her bathroom into her bedroom while pulling her hair up on top of her head. Prada was yipping and growling from her bed.

“Prada? What?”

The dog wouldn't shut up. Lydia swallowed turning around slowly, knowing that there had to be something dangerous behind her.

Turned out to be Isaac. She gasped. “Oh God. What?!” She was irritated with the surprise.

“We need the bullet Peter left you.”

She rolled her eyes, walking over to her vanity and grabbing it. “Why?” She shoved it into his hand.

“We need the Wolfsbane in it to create an antidote. For Scott.”

“You guys can't seem to keep out of trouble, can you?” Lydia put her hands on her hips. “Details?”

“It's a long story.”

“I've got time.”

“Yeah, well. I don't.” Isaac shoved past her, headed for the window.

“Hey!” Lydia grabbed his wrist. “I'm involved with all of this too, you know. If there's something out there that I need to know about, you better clue me in. Because you guys frequent my bedroom with questions but never give me any answers. I'm sick of it!” She swallowed. “Now, we both nearly died at Warehouse 13. Start talking!”

Isaac shuffled his feet. “Can this not wait? Scott needs me.”

“Ugh, get over your ridiculous crush on Scott. He's all about Allison.”

Isaac went red, angry. “ _Lydia._ ”

“If it's so important, fine. But I'm going with you.” She slipped into some flip-flops. “Let's go.”

“I don't know if that's such a good idea-”

“It wasn't a suggestion.” She opened her bedroom door and grabbed Isaac by the wrist, dragging him down the stairs and to the front door.

They ran out into the night, to Stiles's Jeep. Lydia made a face. “Where's Stiles?”

“Honestly? I don't know. He's with Derek though, so hopefully he's fine.”

“Can't imagine anyone being completely safe with Derek Hale.”

“Same could be set about his uncle you know.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, sliding into the passenger seat. “Just drive. How about you start filling me in.”

…

“Follow the light for me?” Ms. McCall asked, and Stiles did as she said. “Hmm... well, along with the other tests, he seems to be okay. I would recommend he get some rest to deal with the loss of blood from the arrow wound. You did a good job cleaning up. Be sure to change the bandage daily until it's healed. Wake him periodically to make sure he can be roused to normal consciousness.”

“No problem,” Derek said.

“Now which one of you are going to tell me what _really_ happened?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “I'm sorry?”

“Scott's been out of his mind lately. You want to tell me what freaky werewolf stuff is happening now?”

“Not particularly,” Stiles grunted.

“Where's my _son_ , Stiles?” Melissa insisted.

“He's fine,” Derek lied.

“I haven't heard from him in six hours. And then you two show up here all beat up. Allison was brought in fifteen minutes ago basically mauled to death. She's lucky to be alive right now. So why don't you two start talking?”

“Allison?” Stiles perked. “She's _here_?”

Melissa narrowed her eyes. “You weren't with her?”

“Not exactly. Where is she?” Derek's face went grave.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Derek's wrist, pulling him close to whisper in his ear. “You're not gonna hurt her are you?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, idiot.”

Chris Argent was in the hallway. The second he saw Derek he definitely saw red. “You son of a bitch! Did you do this to her?”

Derek held up his hands. “No. I didn't. I didn't do... that.” He looked through the window, seeing her bandaged, broken body, hooked up to machines. He had definitely had his hands around her neck but... no. He hadn't done that.

Fear struck Derek's heart. He couldn't remember everything that happened when he was in Alpha form. He only had glimpses and none of them involved Allison, but they could've.

“Where did it happen?” Stiles asked.

“In our driveway. What are you two doing here?”

“We had our own problems this evening. Particularly involving your sister.”

“So I've heard.” Chris growled, still eying Derek with malice. “I'm starting to wonder if I should believe you considering the claw and teeth marks all over my daughter. Where's Scott? Is he responsible?”

“You know he's not,” Derek argued. “He wouldn't harm her even if she was attacking him with those fucking arrows. _She_ attacked _us_!”

Chris tensed, his hands balling into fists. Stiles stepped between them. “Can we not create anymore violence right now? It's not worth it.” He turned to Derek. “Allison couldn't have been attacking us and being mauled at the same time. So we need to figure out how the fuck that happened.” He turned to Chris. “Did you find anything out about those markings?”

Chris looked strung out, sighing. “I'm still looking.”

“Let us know what you find. And let us know when she wakes up. Come on, Derek.”

Stiles dragged Derek down the hallway, his mind going a mile a minute. How? _How?_ It didn't make sense. Nothing ever made sense. He was amazed at how he'd gone from completely sluggish to wild and untamed in a few minutes. He was trying to put it all together, but he didn't have all the pieces. Nothing fit. Nothing--

“Stiles. You need to calm down. You've had a pretty rough day.”

“Yeah, well it's not smoothing out so I might as well keep moving.” He paused, glancing at his hand. Derek laced their fingers together. Stiles squeezed back. “Thanks for helping.”

“Ms. McCall said you need to rest.”

“Rest is for the weak.”

They did start walking slower toward the entrance. Stiles felt better with Derek's warmth channeling through his palm.

“Allison couldn't be two places at once.” He sat in the Camaro and for the first time he noticed his hoodie and shirt, soaked in blood all the way down the arm. _Woah._

“I know. I just wish I knew how it was possible. I thought that if anything she was at least under some form of mind control. Considering that werewolf we ran across was under some sort of entrapment...”

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. But no. Hey. Do you think it was that werewolf that attacked her?”

“Definitely not ruling that out.”

“Wait, do you think it could've been someone else?”

“After she attacked Scott? No telling. The wolf pack is loyal. I can't say I didn't want to rip her head off for attacking either of you. Erica might've had it in her. If Peter caught word of it, he could've taken advantage of it to be particularly vicious. He'd be in for his own reasons, particularly hate for the Argents.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know. We'll know more when Allison wakes up. Maybe.”

He put the car in Drive and rolled out of the parking lot.

“I hope Scott's okay. I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't.”

“He's tougher than the average werewolf,” Derek tried, but there was concern in his throat. Try as he might to swallow it down, Stiles could hear it.

“Yeah I hope so.”

…

“Oh my God.” Lydia was certain she was going to vomit. Absolutely certain.

That was saying something too, because she was far from squeamish. But she'd never seen Scott in such a state. The skin on his arm had completely turned the color of ink, and it was leeching up his neck and across his chest. He was clammy with sweat, taking short, quiet breaths, his face contorted in pain even though he definitely wasn't awake.

“He's had two seizures,” Erica said softly. “I don't wish that on anyone.” She quietly ran a hand through Scott's hair, like a loving mother. She looked like she might cry. “Any luck on the antidote?”

He emptied the powder from the bullet into a vile, then set it over a flame. It burned, smoking from the top as he carried it over to Scott, holding it gingerly with tongs.

“This needs to go directly into the entry wound. Hold him down. He will struggle. We don't have much time. If this reaches his heart, he's done for.”

The pack each grabbed a limb, leaving Lydia with Scott's left ankle, and she wasn't too keen on holding down a werewolf that could probably kill her easily. But she did. Deaton carefully poured the ashes into the hole he'd removed the bullet from.

The sound that came out of Scott was not something she'd ever heard, and it wasn't something she ever wanted to hear again.

…

Derek slammed on the brakes, Stiles jerking forward against his seatbelt.

“What?”

Derek held up a hand, shushing Stiles. “Scott...”

He shoved his foot on the gas, squealing his tires. They reached Deaton's in no time, screeching into the curb. Derek ran inside without even checking back, terror all over his features. Stiles galloped in behind him, his heart pounding. He could hear Scott screaming, loud and pained.

“SCOTT?!” Stiles called out, the bell above the door clattering as they burst through the door.

“Help us hold him down!” came Erica's voice.

Derek didn't have to be told twice. He hopped over the entry-way and grabbed hold on Scott's writhing body. Stiles's threw himself over Scott's ankles, catching eyes with Lydia.

“Hey. What's up,” he said lamely.

She looked a mixture of nauseous and horrified, which, yeah, Stiles figured was probably her usual expression when it came to him and Scott. Scott's screaming took on an edge, getting louder and louder and louder until it was a fucking roar. Stiles was thrown into the wall along with Lydia. He saw Isaach and Erica slide back, Boyd grabbing both of them to slow them down. Derek grabbed Deaton, taking most of the blow to the back as they were thrown into the X-Ray machine, glass shattering all around them. Scott's back bent and his eyes glowed, his claws ripping into the examination table. Dogs barked and howled all around. Derek set Deaton aside and rushed Scott, pressing his palm into the bullet wound on Scott's arm. Scott's claws sunk into Derek's skin, blood dripping down in long lines of red.

“Stay with me!” he was yelling over all the racket. “ _Scott!_ ”

Scott's skin shifted back to it's original color and he quieted. He released Derek, his hand falling weakly to the table. Derek backed away, holding his arm as it healed before Stiles's eyes. Scott gulped four or five breaths, then finally opened his eyes.

“Scott?” Lydia murmured, rubbing at her neck.

Scott sat up, sweaty and weak in the eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, sniffing.

“Woah.”

“That's appropriate,” Isaac grumbled, shaking some fallen plaster from the ceiling out of his hair. Then he softened significantly. “You okay?”

“I think so. What about you guys?”

“Sure,” Lydia snapped. “Perfect. Ugh. Why not just destroy the place, Scott?”

That was Lydia-Martin-Speak for _Glad you're okay._

“Did you catch Allison? Kate?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Scott, um...” Derek faltered. “Allison was attacked in her driveway.”

“What?!” The entire pack was stunned.

“By a werewolf.”

“When?” Erica asked in disbelief. “ _After_ she tried to kill us?”

“Try _at the same time_ ,” Stiles butted in.

“What? What does that mean?” Boyd asked.

“That someone's fucking with us.”

“Doesn't mean it isn't the Argents,” Isaac said, scowling. “You sure she didn't run off just to get what she fucking deserved?”

Scott glared at Isaac. “Don't talk about her like that.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you forget the _arrow_ she left in your neck? How about the _bullet_ her aunt left in your arm that almost killed you? What about that?”

“They just said it wasn't her!”

“Well who _was_ it then? Her evil twin?” Isaac crossed his arms, pissed. “She didn't just watch you almost die.”

“She's in the hospital,” Derek explained.

“And none of you saw her after she attacked us?”

“No,” Isaac huffed, then muttered. “But I wanted to.”

Scott looked too tired to fight. “I need to see her. I need to talk to her.”

“Yeah, well, if your mom asks, you've been totally okay all evening,” Stiles said, making a face. “Since Derek lied to her.”

“When did you see her?”

“Same time we saw Allison. At the hospital.” He paused, scratching at his neck. “Derek thought I might have a concussion, but I'm fine.” He waved his arm, flinching. “Mostly.”

“You should rest, Stiles,” Scott said.

“So should you,” Derek added. “You need time to recover. Allison can wait.”

Scott frowned at Derek, looking like he was ready to argue, but he never did. He hugged his knees to his chest, and then he asked, quietly:

“What if it really _was_ her, though?”

“We'll find out the truth soon. Her dad's still trying to figure out the markings left on that werewolf's neck.”

“What markings?” Lydia piped up.

Stiles showed her the picture.

“Maybe I can help. Tell you what, why don't _I_ go talk to Allison and her dad. I'm a neutral party. No one gets hurt.”

“Yeah?” Stiles looked at her. “You sure about that?”

“Totally. Beats hanging around you losers. Besides. Allison's my friend.”

“That's really... cool of you, Lydia,” Stiles said, smiling. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” She glanced at his neck, leaning in and whispering. “By the way, you're broadcasting that nice hickey on your neck.” She chuckled and headed for the door. “Who's going to drive me? Isaac?”

“Can I—er--”

“Just take the damn Jeep,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Bring it back to my house when you drop her off.”

“And don't go inside with her,” Derek commanded as Isaac headed for the door. “You're still angry and we don't need you flying off the handle and hurting her. Right now, Allison's innocence is in question. Don't attack without knowledge.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Scott...” Stiles started slowly. “You... you saved me back there. I--”

“Don't mention it.” Scott offered a weak smile. “You're my best friend and I love you.”

“Grossssss,” Erica laughed. “Stiles, what is it with you that woos all the werewolf men?”

“What?”

She ruffled Scott's hair. “Glad you're okay, Scott. Come on, Boyd. Let's get you out of here before Stiles seduces you too.”

“What?” Stiles was even more exasperated. Derek tried to hide his smile, but Stiles saw it. “Don't encourage her!”

Scott started giggling.

“Can we just go?” Stiles groaned.

Derek looked at Deaton. “You need help cleaning up?”

“I can handle it.” Deaton dusted off his coat. “Why don't you all go get some much needed rest?”

Stiles appreciated the change of subject. “Done and done.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suspicious behavior all over the place, hm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I could write smut. Not really sure what happened since then.

 Chapter Thirteen

Derek rolled into Stiles's driveway after dropping Scott off at his house, actually feeling a little relieved that everyone had managed to walk away from the fight. For a second he was afraid everyone was going to picked off like weeds. Stiles was asleep in the passenger seat, his face pressed against the window, a little drool leaking from the side of his lip. He murmured words in his sleep that Derek couldn't quite recognize.

“Stiles. Psst. Stiles, wake up.”

“Mrmmarhg,” Stiles grunted, blearily looking at Derek. “Whaaa?”

“You're home,” Derek said, a little amused, getting out of the car and walking around to the passenger side. He opened the door, leaning on the frame of the car. “You okay?”

Stiles nodded. “Sleepy.”

Derek smirked, turning around and helping Stiles onto his back. “You owe me so bad. Making me your ride to the door.”

“Mreghbl, you did that.” Stiles nuzzled into Derek's neck. Derek tried to pretend it didn't raise his flesh just a little bit.

“Where are your keys?”

Stiles smiled against Derek's skin, leading Derek's hand to his front pocket.

“Stiles, I'm not digging in your pockets. You're completely capable.”

“Sourpuss.” Stiles dropped his house keys into Derek's hand.

Derek let them in and tromped up the stairs, then dropped Stiles a little unceremoniously onto his bed. “Wait here. I'll change your bandages. Lose the jacket.”

“Okay.”

Derek crossed the hall into the bathroom and dug for the first aid kit. It took him a couple of minutes before he finally located it behind all the junk underneath the counter, but he returned with it under his arm. Stiles was sitting on the bed only in his jeans, trying to pull off the bandage on his own.  
“Will you stop? I got it.” Derek sat down next to him and carefully unwound the bandage.

He dug in the kit for some alcohol, dabbing it on a rag he'd grabbed from the bathroom. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, gripping Stiles's arm and brushing it against the wound.

Stiles hissed, flinching only slightly. “Ouch.”

“Sorry.” Derek pulled it away and blew on it. “Better?”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah. Sure.”

Derek wrapped the injury and bit the bandage to cut it off.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“Are you... staying?”

“At least til your dad gets home. Scott's mom said to keep rousing you to make sure you woke up okay.”

“Ugh, not gonna enjoy that. I need my beauty rest, you know.”

Derek ran a hand through Stiles's hair. “Yeah, you definitely need that.”

“Shut up.”

Stiles grabbed Derek by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. Derek crawled closer as Stiles fell back against the pillows of the bed, slipping his tongue between Stiles's lips, memorizing the shape of his mouth. He played piano on Stiles's ribcage, pecked and licked over his jaw and neck, taking it all in. Having Stiles underneath him felt right. He'd been so scared that he was going to lose him.

Hell, for a second, Derek thought he'd lost _himself._ Stiles had brought him back.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, a hand falling on his back, pulling at his shirt so it rode up Derek's torso. “God...”

Derek pulled his shirt off and threw it over his shoulder, grinding his hips down onto Stiles. Stiles gasped, his back arching off the bed like a bow.

“Oh my God, please keep doing that,” Stiles breathed against Derek's cheekbone.

Derek chuckled into Stiles's skin, dragging his teeth lightly over his collarbone, feathering gentle kisses all the way down his chest and stomach. He popped the button on Stiles's fly.  
“Hang on,” Stiles said.

He slid his hand into Derek's pocket, grabbed his cell phone, turned it off, and tossed it onto the floor. Derek laughed, kissing him again and pulling down Stiles's zipper.

“Good idea.”

“I know. I'm a genius.” Stiles grinned. Derek slid his jeans down his hips.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing?” he asked, unable to contain his amusement.

“Hey, I've read Wikipedia.”

“Wonderful.”

“I've also watched plenty of porn. Take off your pants.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You're so impatient.”

“Have you _met me?_ ”

Derek shut Stiles up by covering his mouth with his own, sliding his hand down his torso to Stiles's cock. Stiles moaned into Derek's mouth, vibrating to the back of his throat. He squired under Derek's grip, his hands gripping Derek's shoulders, digging little crescents into his skin. He broke away from Derek's mouth, sucking in air to the rhythm of Derek's hand.

“Fuck, Derek. Fuck. _Fuckkk._ ”

Derek grunted into Stiles's neck, pulling away with a breath. “Fuck you're noisy.” He started shimmying out of his own jeans, kicking his shoes off the bed.

“Oh my God.” Stiles was agape, his pupils blown wide and black with arousal. “Oh my _God._ ”

“ _Stiles._ ” Derek gave him a look.

“Sorry. Just... wow. Never seen you naked before. Kind of what I expected though...”

His face was bright red, lips chapped and swollen. He looked strung out and absolutely beautiful. Derek wasn't gawking at him, because he didn't gawk, but _damn._

“What?” Stiles asked.

Okay, maybe he gawked a little.

“Uhhh... we need--”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Stiles dug in his nightstand and pulled out a tube of lubricant, smiling a bit too big at Derek. “Yes?”

He was so fucking cute. If Derek wasn't so keen on _doing_ him at the moment, he probably would've found it a little annoying. “Give me that,” he commanded, grabbing it from Stiles.

They fumbled around for minutes that felt like hours. Stiles made sounds that were downright raunchy to Derek's ears as he stretched him and touched him and kissed him. It was a little clumsy at first. Derek wasn't used to it, but Stiles definitely didn't seem to mind. When he was finally inside Stiles, he felt like all the air left his body in one sigh. It was amazing. Stiles was still for a long time, closing his eyes, clinging to Derek's body. Derek didn't want to hurt him. He wanted to be the last one to hurt him.

“God... _Derek._ ”

He took that as a cue to move. Time slowed. Stiles's body moved underneath him, wanton, needy. Stiles came first, his face shifting, eyes rolling upwards, expletives and prayers falling from his lips and a silent utterance of Derek's name.

Derek saw stars, galaxies, and white-hot suns bursting behind his eyes.

He collapsed next to Stiles, exhausted, breathing heavily in sync with him sharing oxygen.

Well, that was kind of a big deal. Derek figured they probably needed to talk about it.

But he was so fucking tired. He figured it could wait. Besides, he had to rouse Stiles a few more times that night. Why not take advantage of the opportunity?

…

“Derek. What. The. Fuck. Dude.”

Derek cracked an eye open, stirring against the cold sheet where Stiles had been. Stiles was standing in the doorway in towel with soap in his hair, looking irritated.

“What?” Derek asked, his voice low and sleepy.

Stiles jaggedly indicated to his chest. Derek followed with his eyes. He'd left probably twenty bite marks all over poor Stiles. At least that many. And Stiles's neck was littered with little purple bruises.

“Sorry?” he said, not feeling sorry in the least, smiling at him.

“Could you _be_ any rougher on me? God. I look like a piece of meat.”

“Mmm,” Derek replied, smug.

“I do have to face my dad when he gets home in like, oh, fifteen minutes. Any ideas?”

“I'd say clothing would be a great choice, but I'm not a huge fan of that option.”

“Oh, it's so easy for you to say. I could bite you all I want and it'd heal up within a couple of minutes.”

“It is. It's very easy for me to say.” Derek clambered out of bed and pushed Stiles's against the wall, kissing his neck, lightly brushing his lips on each bruise.

Stiles mewled, going slack against him before remembering they were fighting and shoving him lightly. “No, Derek. No. Bad dog.”

Derek smirked. “You like it.”

“Yeah, I'm aware. Come on, grimy. You could use a shower yourself.”

Stiles pulled Derek by the wrist, across the hall, into the bathroom where the shower was running.

“You're not helping yourself, you know,” Derek chuckled, pushing Stiles into the tub and pulling the curtain behind them. The hot water hit Derek's head and shoulders and he let out a small sigh. It'd been awhile since he'd had a hot shower. Most of the time he was cleaning up in cold well water or something similar.

“I'm very good at making bad decisions.” Stiles kissed Derek languidly on the mouth, sliding their wet skin together.

Derek perked. He could hear keys in the lock downstairs. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Your dad's home.”

“Ack!” Stiles fumbled around, swiping his hair out of his eyes and stumbling out of the tub. “See? Bad decisions. Horrible decisions!” He grabbed a bathrobe and threw it on, tying it. “Stay here.”

“O...kay.” Derek shrugged and went back to showering. He figured if Stiles wanted to freak out, he could go right ahead.

…

“Derek told you to leave me here.”

Isaac flopped onto the couch in Allison's room, eying Lydia. “Don't care.”

“Yes you do. You do everything he says,” Lydia argued. “Besides, you've had Stiles's Jeep all night. You should return it.”

“I'm not leaving until she wakes up.”

“Why? You planning on killing her? I'm not gonna let you do that.”

“You couldn't stop me if I wanted to. But no. I just want to hear it all from her.”

“When her dad gets back, he'll kick you out.”

“Whatever.”

Lydia huffed. “I don't know why you're so bitchy today, Isaac. Scott's fine. Stop being so dramatic.”

“You did see him almost die, Lydia, didn't you?”

“Yeah. Keyword _almost._ Right now, Allison's a lot closer to dying than Scott with his freaky werewolf powers so shut it.”

“She attacked us.”

“No she didn't. There's no way she could be in her driveway the same time she was shooting you guys down at the school.”

“She took off into the woods and disappeared! Kate finished her bidding. What if it happened afterwards? It's a small window of time but it could happen.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “What, are you jealous?”

Isaac huffed. “I just want the truth. That's all.”

“And if it's not what you want to hear?”

Allison made a pained noise, stirring from her sleep, her eyelashes fluttering open, fingers twitching.

“Allison?” Lydia asked, standing and walking to her bed. “Allison, are you okay?”

“What happened?” she croaked.

“You were attacked. Your dad had to run home and grab some stuff but he'll be back soon.”

Allison's eyes slowly slid to Isaac, sprawled over the tiny loveseat in the room, frowning. Memories of the night before flooded her mind and she swallowed, her throat hurting.

“Isaac.”

“Do you remember what happened to you? What you did last night?”

“I was... I was... it was a werewolf. In my driveway. I put up a good fight but she sunk her claws in me. She... she didn't want to hurt me. It was like she _had_ to.”

“Was this after you apparently _had_ to shoot us with arrows?”

“What?” Allison's expression shifted, a mixture of confusion and anger. “What are you talking about?”

“We were attacked by _you_ last night. At the lacrosse field.”

Lydia glared at Isaac.

“That's impossible,” Allison said, her voice gathering strength. “I went out to lunch with Faye and then we went shopping. But she started feeling sick so I took her home. On the way back to my house I got a flat and had to change it. I got home, I was attacked.”

“So she can attest to your whereabouts until you dropped her off – which was still plenty of time to get to the school, and--”

“I have the receipt from the tire shop that I _walked to_. It's in my glove box. If you don't believe me, check it yourself.” She sat up, flinching against her will. “Stop accusing me of something I didn't do.”

“Who's to say you don't want to kill us? Like your aunt?”

“Because between the moment I woke up and right now, I have had the opportunity to kill you six times and I _didn't._ First Stiles and now you? Who's walking around with my face?!” She gasped, gripping at her bandaged stomach underneath her gown, her spine curving at the pain. “Oh... _oh,_ Isaac. You have to believe me.”

“You should lay back down, Allison,” Lydia suggested, gently touching her arm.

“I didn't expect to wake up to him blaming me for something I didn't do. I'm done sitting on the sidelines waiting for someone to tell me what's going on. If someone is defaming my reputation, I sure as hell am not going to stand for it.”

“What is he doing here?” Allison's dad looked about as pissed as Allison did when he pushed open the door.

“Dad, it's fine,” Allison raised a hand, trying to calm herself and her father. “According to Isaac, I attacked their pack last night.”

“But she didn't,” Lydia added in. “She wasn't anywhere near the school. He's delusional.”

“I am not!” Isaac went red in the face, angry.

“He's not,” Allison sighed. Isaac looked confused. “Look. Stiles was supposedly attacked by me, too. I don't know what's going on, but they at least have a reason to be afraid.” Allison fell back against her pillows, letting out a long breath. “I just need you to believe me, Isaac. I didn't go out to hurt anyone that night.” She paused, glancing at her dad. “What about Scott? Is he okay?”

Isaac cast his eyes away. “...Now.”

…

“Hey Dad!” Stiles squeaked sliding a little on the floor as he spun into the staircase. “What's up?”

“Stiles, I've had a very long day-- are you wearing my robe?”

“Y-yeah. I was um. In the shower. I heard you come in.”

Sheriff Stilinski raised an eyebrow. “So you had to come running down to say... hi?”

“Uhhh. Yeah! Hi Dad. I love you. I don't feel like we say that enough. We should say that more, yeah?”

“ _Stiles..._ what's going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Why would you think anything would be going on?” Stiles absently adjusted his robe, hoping, _praying_ that Derek's marks could not be seen.

His dad was exponentially more suspicious, crossing his arms. “Why is the shower still running, Stiles?”

“Because, uh. Because. _Because_ I was. In it.”

“So you heard my key in the door. From all the way upstairs. With the shower running.”

“Yep.”

“And you're not part bat.”

“No.”

“Uh _huh._ ”

“So if I go up there. Right now. I won't find anyone in the shower?”

“...Nope.”

Stiles glanced nervously up the stairs, where the bathroom awaited. Derek definitely was behind that door. _WHY DID I HAVE TO LIE, OH MY GOD,_ Stiles thought, his inner voice screaming inside his head. _WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU STILINSKI._

Stiles followed his father up the stairs slowly, and down the hallway just as slowly, though his heart was beating a mile a minute. His breath was coming way too quick into his nose and... hey... his vision was getting kind of... spotty....

Stiles opened his eyes the second he hit the floor.

“Stiles?” his dad whirled around, dropping to a knee. “Stiles! Are you okay?”

“Headrush,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I kind of... hit my head last night. No big deal...”

“You could have a concussion! We need to get you to the hospital.”

“I already saw Ms. McCall. She told me to rest.”

“Where's your car?”

“Well, I mean I hurt my head. I couldn't drive it, right?” Stiles lied on the spot. “Scott has it.”

“He couldn't bring it home?”

“Well, I mean, Derek took me to the hospital.”

“Derek? Again with this Derek guy? Where is he right now?”

“Stiles, are you out of the shower ye-- oh, hello Sheriff Stilinski.” Derek smiled, waltzing right out of Stiles's room in jeans and one of Stiles's t-shirts, his hair still wet and sticking to his face. He dabbed at it with a towel. “Stiles, why are you on the floor?”

“Oh, you know. Just. Chillin.” Stiles tried not to gawk at Derek. How the fuck did he manage to sneak out of the bathroom, get dressed, and come out looking completely innocent?!

“You're the one that brought my son home?”

“Yes sir.” Derek knelt next to Stiles and offered him a hand. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. I'm fine.” Stiles blushed against his will, letting Derek and his father help him up. “Little dizzy's'all.”

“Ms. McCall asked me to watch him to make sure he was okay.”

“That was... very kind of you to do, Derek.”

“Uh... well, I'd really like to finish my shower now, thanks.” Stiles held his robe closed, mortified.

“You sure you can walk?”

“I'm fine, Derek, really. Just got a quick headrush. I'm good. I'm fantastic.”

“Well, your ego doesn't seemed to be too bruised.”

“Showering!” Stiles tromped off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Then he could finally let go of the breath he'd been holding.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interesting, no?

Chapter Fourteen

“I need answers.”

“Forty-two.”

“What?”

“Answer to the meaning of life. Isn't that what this thing says?” Derek flipped through a few pages of Stiles's copy of _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._

“That's not what I need the answer to.” Stiles made a scene of rolling his eyes, yanking the book out of Derek's hands. “Are you even reading this?”

“I was skimming it.”

“Where's my dad?”

“Making breakfast. I think he might actually like me.”

“He's lying to you. He hates everyone.”

“No he doesn't.”

“You're right, he doesn't. But he's got to be more than suspicious of us.” Stiles started digging in his dresser for a shirt that would cover all the marks on him. “God damn it, Derek.”

Derek leaned back on his elbows. “Why don't you just tell him?”

“Oh, yeah. Great idea. Hey, dad. My friend, here? He's a werewolf. Also, I'm fucking him. That'll go over really well.”

“You could leave out the werewolf part.”

“STOP. ENJOYING. THIS.”

“Make me.”

Stiles turned around to argue, but stood, his mouth hanging open. “Stop it. Stop being cute.”

“I don't know if I can physically do that, Stiles.”

Stiles flailed angrily, tossing shirts out of his dresser like a madman before finally collapsing over them with a sigh.

“Hey, relax, okay?” Derek said, sympathizing with him. He _did_ look a little strung out.

“It's not... It's just.” Stiles turned around, back against the dresser, Derek _way_ too close. “I didn't expect.... Last night was my first time, okay?” He blushed heavily. “Not first time with a dude. First time _ever._ ” He sighed. “Give me a little break. I'm kind of freaking out here.”

Derek pulled Stiles in for a hug, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. “I guess it is kind of a big deal.”

“Kind of? It totally is. And with you of all people. That, I didn't expect.”

Derek smirked. “Yeah, well. I guess you just couldn't help yourself.”

“Watch your mouth, Hale.”

“How about I just watch yours?”

“That would be okay.” Derek leaned in for a kiss but Stiles shoved his face away. “ _After_ you help me find a shirt.”

“Dick.”

“Oh, you don't even _know._ Now explain to me how you got out of that bathroom.”

“I'm fast and you're both oblivious.”

…

“My mom was pretty suspicious about what we got up to last night,” Scott said, matching steps with Stiles in the hallway.

“Heh. Imagine that.”

“What about your dad?”

Stiles adjusted his scarf. “Aren't you cold? It's like fucking winter out there.”

“It's like maybe sixty-five degrees.”

“Cold enough for me.”

“Stiles, you went swimming in fifty degree whether once. You sure you're okay? You don't have fever or anything do you?” He touched Stiles's forehead with a grin, even with Stiles glaring.

“Stop babying me, Scott. Jeez. Have you talked to Allison?”

“Not yet. She won't answer her phone. I hope she's not mad at me.”

“Well, if she _was_ the one shooting at us, I'd give that an enthusiastic yes. But I'm pretty sure she wasn't.”

Scott sighed. “It doesn't make _sense_ , Stiles.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of things don't.”

“Yeah, like you and Derek.”

Stiles went red in the face. “Hey!”

Scott pulled Stiles into an empty part of the hallway, looking at him in earnest. _No, Scott. Bad._ Stiles did not want to be drawn in by that friendly stare. “Tell me the truth.”

“I already--” Stiles chewed his lip, because that _fucking look._ “Okay. Honest? I'm...” He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I... we... I slept with him, okay?”

“Woah. You're not a virgin anymore.”

“Yes, thank you for that brilliant observation. Though you seem to be taking this better than I expected.”

“My brain is exploding, but I tamed it down for you. I don't get it, Stiles. I thought you guys hated each other. Then all of a sudden you're flirting and making out and fucking? Woah, dude. That's a hell of a spectrum.”

“I dunno, Scott. There's just... something about him.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Do you love him,” Scott repeated. “I mean. That's important.”

Stiles frowned. “I... I don't know how to answer that right now.”

“Look, I'm your best friend. And if you really wanna do this, go ahead. I'm not gonna stop you. But I'll also say that a lot of crazy shit's been going on and I don't want you to get caught up in a fling just because things are tough to deal with by yourself.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, offended. “Excuse me? You fell in love with Allison in like three weeks! And that was in the middle of you being a _werewolf._ Pretty sure you can't get more dramatic than that.”

“I know, I know. I'm not knocking you, Stiles. I just want to make sure you're safe.”

“Scott, we both have a massive problem with liking things that can hurt us.”

Scott ran a hand over his arm, casting his eyes away.

“How's your arm... by the way?” Stiles asked hesistantly.

“It's okay. It still hurts a little bit. And I think I hurled about three times last night after I got home. Didn't help my mom think things were super.”

“No, probably not. Did Deaton give you more antidote?”

“He doesn't have any. We used it all.”

“Watch out, losers,” Lydia said, clicking by in her high heeled shoes, carrying an armful of books.

“Hey Lydia. Whatcha reading?”

Lydia stopped in her fast-paced walk, craning her head over her shoulder. “Lots of things. What are you reading?”

“...I feel like I should have an answer for that,” Stiles said blankly.

Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder. “They're all in Latin. _This_ one is from Mr. Argent.” She held it up. “And _this_ one,” she held up another, “Is about all types of Wolfsbane, including legends and supposed antidotes.” She held up another huge book. “This one is about ancient magic.”

“Wow.”

“You bet your ass.” Lydia popped her hip, smirking. “I'm gonna figure this out if it kills me.”

“Wow, uh... thanks, Lydia.”

“I'm not doing it for you, Scott. Don't worry your pretty little head about that.”

She was gone in a whirl of strawberry-blonde hair.

“Hey, I mean, at least she thinks you're pretty, right?” Stiles offered a smile to Scott. Scott just rolled his eyes.

Coach Finstock was nice and loud when they entered the room. “Bout time you showed up for class, Stilinski,” he said.

“Hey Coach,” he offered in return. “Feeling better, thanks.”

“What, you have the flu or something? Why are you all bundled up?”

Stiles grinned. “What? You don't think I look adorable?”

“Never. Never ever.”

“See, that's where you're wrong,” Scott added on, sliding into his seat. He glanced at Allison's empty seat.

Stiles slipped into his own seat by Scott, pulling out his Economics textbook.

“I don't suppose you got the notes?” Finstock looked unimpressed.

“Hey, remember that time I found Lydia in the woods? You said the person who found her would get an A in your class. Well?”

“That was a lie. Open your book.”

“Damn it.”

Faye rushed in right after the bell rang, taking Allison's empty desk. Scott eyed her like she'd sullied sacred ground. She clearly didn't notice, smiling at him all prettily.

“Hi,” she said.

“Why are you sitting in Allison's desk?”

“Hm? Oh, assigned seats? My bad. I was just late for class, you know.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I'm fine.”

Scott turned around and leaned over his work. He winced a little, touching his arm. Stiles watched Faye. _Wait a second..._

“Hey Faye, where'd you get that scratch on your cheek?”

“Hm? Oh, my dog scratched me. She's been such a nervous wreck since the move. I don't know what to do about it.”

“Hey, you know. Scott's good with dogs. Maybe he could find out.”

“What?” Scott turned, looking at Stiles incredulously. “Stiles--”

“Scott works with Deaton. He's great with dogs.”

Faye chewed on the tip of her pen. “Maybe we can all grab coffee or something. Yeah?”

“Sounds fantastic,” Stiles said, putting on his most winning smile.

Hook, line, and sinker. She took it as flirting.

“HEY. I am not teaching to hear myself talk!” Finstock said.

“You're sure of that?” Isaac smarted. He quickly received a smack to the back of the head. Isaac chuckled, definitely not learning his lesson.

“Hey, you guys gonna be up for the 'Crosse game?” Danny asked, leaning in to whisper to Scott and Stiles. “Seems like half our team has been missing from practice lately. It's no wonder Finstock's pissed.”

“We'll be fine,” Scott said. “What about you? You were in the hospital for a day or two.”

“Yeah, fine. You know, I don't even really remember what happened that night? I guess I was pretty shitfaced. And Lydia won't tell me anything.”

“Were you there with Lydia?”

“No. Isaac.”

“Isaac?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Were you trying to hook up with Isaac?”

“What? No.” Stiles wasn't positive on whether or not Danny was lying or not. He glanced at Scott to get a read on hi, but... well... Scott didn't really seem to care much. “Why would you ask that?”

“Just curious.”

“Stiles, you have got to stop worrying about _my_ love life. Jeez.”

“I am not worried about your love life at all.”

“He's got his own to worry about,” Scott added, going back to his book.

“Oh yeah?” Danny looked a little proud. “Did our little Stilinski finally get some?”

Stiles blushed. He glanced over at Lydia who was scribbling notes from her books that had nothing to do with Economics.

Danny followed his gaze. “Woah, you didn't sleep with Lydia did you?”

“Do you really think Lydia would ever want to sleep with me, Danny?” Stiles gave Danny his flattest look.

“You're right. No.”

He wasn't really sure why that irritated him more.

“So who?”

Stiles went back to his work, deciding to immediately ignore Danny's question in lieu of better topics.

So Danny grabbed the scarf around his neck and tugged.

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski!” Finstock actually _stopped_ teaching. “Did you get mauled by a _bear?_ ”

Scott's mouth hung open, which, yeah, pretty much matched the rest of the room, with the exception of Lydia, who was still buried in her book. Stiles was frozen. It was like the entire world just slowed to a halt. He swallowed thickly, feeling the eyes of his classmates burning into him like laser beams.

“It could've been a mountain lion,” Stiles tried blandly, wondering if that might have been a little too soon. When the class's tension broke into little giggles, he was a little relieved that it wasn't. He wrapped his scarf back around his neck.

The class continued. Scott kept staring though.

“Dude, what did he _do_ to you?” he whispered.

Danny was still eavesdropping. “ _He?_ ” He looked scandalized and way, way too pleased to hear the news. “I _knew it._ ”

“Both of you shut up!” Stiles squeaked, threatening them half-heartedly with his mechanical pencil.

“Mm, well, someone had fun last night,” Faye said, chuckling. “I suppose you weren't actually trying to hit on me a second ago?”

“Oh no. That was all Scott.”

“ _Stiles-_ ”

Stiles just needed Scott to trust him. He tried to convey that with his eyes. “He's pretty torn up over his last break up. He and Allison were pretty serious.”

“Wow, really?” Faye twirled her hair around her finger. “What happened?”

“It's complicated.”

Lydia chewed her pen and kept writing, completely unaware of anyone else in the room.

…

“You are being very quiet today, Lydia.”

Lydia dug in her shelves for another large book. “I told you not to bother me today, Peter. I don't know why you don't get that.”

He pouted, kicking back on her bed. “You've been on edge since Jackson left.”

“Yeah, like you're not partially responsible for that.”

“Ooh, touchy.”

“I'm trying to save your pack, asshole. Maybe you should be a little more open to that?”

“Mm, not much of a pack nowadays. They've all gone off with their respective others. Rather lonely.”

“Friendly people make friends.”

“Never really been my style. Not since my family burned to a crisp.”

“Then why complain?”

Lydia skimmed her notes, her focus intensifying as answers started playing before her eyes. “You want to do something for me?”

“What's that?”

“I need a Czech to English dictionary. Think you manage to get that for me?”

“Am I allowed to steal it?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I can give you money for it but do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care.”

She handed him a ten dollar bill. “Just hurry back.”

“My dear, I will hurry back for you always.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don't be that creep, Peter.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woah, suspicious.

 Chapter Fifteen

“You want to explain to me why you're trying to set me up with Faye?”

“Ooh, you're mad. I can see it. Your eyes are getting all gold and angry.”

“ _Stiles!_ I don't want to date her!”

“I hear that. She's weird,” Isaac said, his head still in his locker as he dug for his shirt. “Actually, she's perfect for you, Scott. You're both weird.”

“Not any weirder than you, Isaac.” Scott slid his jersey on and dropped onto the bench to change shoes.

“She's a little nuts,dude.” Isaac plopped down next to him with a sigh. “Back at Warehouse 13? Before everything went apeshit, of course. She was spewing all this stuff about how awful people are. And she kept trying to get me drunk. I don't know, man. She told me I was like a puppy and that I'd probably make a pretty good pet?”

“You would though,” Scott replied, smiling. Isaac flushed, rolling his eyes. “But that is weird.”

“Exactly,” Stiles said, sliding in between them, much to the chagrin of Isaac. “That's why you need to go out with her.”

“You are making your argument _so well_ , Stiles,” Isaac grumbled, a little more than scathing.

“Hear me out. I think... I think Faye has something to do with this whole Kate Argent thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She showed up about the time this whole thing started. And all the stuff Isaac said! You don't think that's suspicious?”

“Creepy maybe. But you didn't know that before you set this up.”

“She... she had a _scratch_ on her _cheek._ ”

“And?”

“So did Kate! When I saw her in the woods! It was that exact scratch.”

“How'd she get it? Derek?”

“No, she had it when I got to her. Maybe she got it running in the woods.”

“Why would it matter if Faye had it?”

“She could've been there! She could be pulling the strings! She wanted Isaac to be her pet? Maybe she wanted to mind-control Isaac or something!”

“She didn't come to Warehouse 13 with me. She went with Lydia.”

“Lydia?” Stiles frowned. “Why was she there with Lydia?”

“I dunno. Probably a test? Lydia always takes new friends clubbing to see if she likes them enough to let them into her social circle. As far as I know, only Allison, Danny, and Jackson passed with flying colors.”

“I never even got the test!” Stiles pouted.

“She doubled dated with me and Allison once. Maybe that was my test? Did I fail?”

“That is so unfair!” Stiles wouldn't let it go. “She never even gave me a chance.”

“Are you really all that concerned with Lydia liking you now that Derek chewed your neck to pieces? Also, gross.” Isaac strapped on his knee pads.

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard he was certain they'd pop out of his head. “Can we _not_ , Isaac? Please?”

“Oh trust me. I don't want to know anything else about your sex life, Stiles.”

“Bet you'd want to know about Scott's,” Stiles mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He knew Isaac heard it. He knew by Scott's puzzled expression that he did too. Clueless. Totally. Clueless.

“Look. Let's focus. We need to figure out if Faye's involved or not. Why not go out with her and find out?”

“Because I seriously doubt Allison will like that.”

“You were cool with her dating Matt. Besides, she's _not_ your girlfriend anymore. You've been pretty determined to make that clear.”

Isaac got up, a little frustrated. “I don't know. This seems sketch, Stiles. If she is involved, I don't know if it's a good idea to let Scott go frolicking around with her.”

“Scott's no wuss. He can handle himself.”

“Can we talk about me like I'm here, please?” Scott dropped in. “Stiles, I get what you're doing, but I really don't know what exactly to be looking for...”

“Too bad she didn't pass Lydia's test. She seems to be learning a lot more about this stuff than we do,” Isaac mused. “Maybe you should ask her.” He slammed his locker shut. “First thing's first. Practice.”

…

“Sorry. My hair's wet. I just got done with practice.”

“That's okay,” Faye said, smiling. “Otrok, say hello.”

The gray dog bowed its head, whimpering. Scott squatted in front of her and held out his hand.

“Hey sweetie. Hey. It's okay.”

The dog sniffed at his hand, then licked it gently. Scott smiled. “There ya go. Hey.” He pet the dog, ruffling her fur under his hand.

“Wow, she took to you super easily,” Faye mused.

“Well, I mean, Stiles said I'm pretty good with dogs.”

“He seems to know a lot of things.”

Scott glanced up at her. “Heh, yeah, I guess?”

“Come on. Let's go get coffee.” She reached out for Scott's hand. Scott eyed it warily, then took it.

Otrok hovered at Faye's side, slowly trailing along on the leash, looking timid. Scott couldn't stop watching the poor animal, feeling like there had to be something scaring her. He was worried it was probably him. Dogs could typically sense werewolves. It took a couple of weeks before all of Deaton's dogs calmed down. They still weren't super stoked when someone like Isaac or Boyd or Erica came around – but Derek always scared them into silence. He supposed that had to do with being the Alpha.

“I'm really glad you came out with me today, Scott.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Don't think I'm too forward, but I think you're really cute.”

“Thanks.”

“I certainly like that Otrok gets along with you. She gets aggressive with some people.”

Scott eyed the dog. She didn't look like she could be aggressive with anyone ever. He didn't like holding hands with her. It didn't feel right. He missed Allison.

“So you dated Allison, hm?”

“Uhhh yeah.”

“She's really pretty. And she seems really nice. I don't know her really well though. She hasn't been around. What happened?”

“I don't really like to talk about it. But yeah, she's... she is... uh. She got hurt the other day. She does archery, y'know? And her bow snapped. Yeah. She should be back at school soon.”

“Oh. That's good. So you guys ended on bad terms?”

“N-no. I wouldn't say that.”

“Relationships like that don't usually end on good terms.”

“Why does it matter to you?” Scott pulled his hand out of her grip, feeling like it was almost itching to be away from her skin, from the unfamiliar territory.

She blinked. “It doesn't.... I was just... trying to make conversation.”

“About something I don't like to talk about?”

“...You're right. I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't mean to make you angry...”

“It's... it's fine. Just a touchy subject s'all. Let me run inside and get us some coffee. What do you want?”

Faye tied Otrok's leash to the table. “Oh, anything organic's fine. Surprise me.”

“Yeah... okay.”

Scott rushed into the shop and straight into Stiles. “What? Hey! What are you doing here?”

“You really think I'd let you go run off with Faye without doing some primo spying? Come on, dude, give me a little credit.”

“How'd you get here so fast?”

“Some of us spend practice on the bench, Scott, and are able to sneak out early. Do you remember that? Do you remember being on the bench?”

“Okay, fine, Stiles.”

“Did she say anything weird?”

“Uh, not really? I mean, she's been a little awkward, yeah, but.” Scott ordered two vanilla lattes and glanced outside. “Can't believe she's not cold, sitting out there. I mean, yeah, she's got the dog so.”

Stiles peered through the window. “That dog is so timid.”

“Yeah, I think she senses the wolf.”

“Never seen a dog with eyes that blue before...”

Scott grabbed the coffees. “Stay in here and try not to get into too much trouble, hm? Maybe you could call Allison? See if she's okay?” He popped right back out the door. “Sorry it took so long.”

“It's fine. So. You excited for the lacrosse game tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” Scott glanced at the sky. The full moon would be tomorrow night too. “I haven't really gotten to play because of my grades, but now that I've been getting them back up, Finstock's letting me on the field.”

“Cool. I hear you're really good. I don't know much about lacrosse, but I'm looking forward to learning.” She sipped at her coffee. “I hear it's a pretty violent game.”

“It can be, but we'll be fine. We're a good team.”

“Careful, though. Full moon.” She giggled. “People are always so superstitious of it.”

“Yeah, they can be.”

Otrok whined.

“So. Any suggestions on my dog?”

“Hm...” Scott stroked her head lovingly and she responded like she'd never been touched affectionately. “I don't know. Do you play with her? Maybe she just needs some extra love to help her through the move. Did your parents bring her toys or anything?”

“Mm. She doesn't really like toys.”

“What does she like to do?”

Faye glanced down at the dog. “She's not very playful. She wasn't even back at home.”

“Well if she's lethargic, maybe she's sick.”

“Dr. Deaton said she was okay.”

Scott scratched Otrok behind the ears. “I dunno. Did you tell him that she doesn't play much? I mean, dogs can be timid. When did you get her?”

“Oh... about a year ago.”

“Maybe she was abused before you got her.”

“Well, she did come from a rather questionable background...”

“Did you get her from a shelter?”

“Not exactly.”

“Where did you get her from?”

“I found her.”

“Found her?”

“Yeah. I guess it was just fate bringing us together, hm?” She ran a finger over Scott's knuckles. “I just seem to find all kinds of wonderful things.”

Scott swallowed, watching her yellow-painted nails as they glided over his skin. His hand tingled under her touch, his face warming a little. She smirked at him with her beautiful green eyes. Scott breathed steam.

This was not right.

This was not right.

This was not right.

He pulled his hand away. “I uh... actually just remembered that I have to pick my mom up from work.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“Sorry. Raincheck?”

“Of course.”

Scott stood and started to leave.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?” He looked back at her.

“Is Stiles okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. Why?”

“I was just curious. I mean, his _neck._ ”

“Yeah, he's fine. They were just hickeys.”

“You should tell whoever it is with him not to bite too hard. Could be dangerous.”

“Heh... yeah. I'll do that.”

…

“You were right. She is totally scary.”

“See?” Isaac looked pleased, leaning back on the hood of Stiles's Jeep, much to Stiles's chagrin. “I told you. Super weird.”

“She asked you about my _neck?_ ” Stiles was leaning against the grill of it. “Why?”

“She said that whoever went to town on it shouldn't bite too hard.”

“Woah, suspicious.”

“Right? It's almost like she... _knew_ you're with a werewolf. An Alpha even.”

“Could be a coincidence.”

“Yeah or it could be a threat.”

“What if she thinks I'm a werewolf?”

“What?”

Stiles shrugged. “I mean, if she's thinking that I've been bitten by an Alpha, I bet she thinks I'm a werewolf too.”

“Why would that matter?” Isaac asked.

“I don't know. I haven't put it all together yet. I'm still working on it. You gonna go see Allison?”

“I would, but I don't know if her dad will be cool with that.”

“She's home. I texted her. You should go see her tonight,” Stiles said, grinning.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She wants to see you.”

Isaac huffed. “Okay, so while lover-boy is off, what are we going to do about the perimeter of Wolfsbane around the lacrosse field?”

“Well, we can try to cut it down, but it will grow back. Landscaper has been out there three times this week. Looks like you'll have to play 'Crosse like us humans do, Isaac,” Stiles patted his shoulder. “Think you can manage? You did during practice.”

“On a full moon? Fuck, Stiles. That shit does make us transform. We gotta do something.”

“Okay, okay. Let's see what Lydia can come up with.”

“So why don't you go see _Allison_ ,” Isaac spat, like a child.

Scott made a face at Stiles, gesturing at Isaac behind his back. Stiles just shrugged.

…

“Get out. I'm busy.”

“But _Lydia---_ ”

“Oh my God. Children. I am busy. Get out. Do I need to say it in some other language? Or how about I nibble it into your throat. Maybe then you'll pay attention.”

Stiles considered it. Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I am not your resident go-to fixer, guys. I'm currently working on all the _other_ problems you've come to me whining about.”

“This is part of that.”

“Fantastic.” Lydia glared at Isaac and Stiles. “Are you two doing each other? Is that why you're always around?”

“No.”

“So it _is_ Derek that's been chewing on your neck.”

Stiles went bright red. “What?!”

“Please. You know I'm smart, Stiles. Don't look at me like I'm stupid.”

“We need to get the Wolfsbane off the Lacrosse field.”

“Ugh, so you and Scotty can play your stupid little _game?_ There are more important things going on.”

“Everyone in this town is going to know about us if we don't get rid of it,” Isaac argued. “Then you won't have to worry about all your little research because you'll have a fuck-ton more damage control to do. Now are you going to help us or not?”

“Burn it,” Lydia said, annoyed. “Stiles. Put on a gas mask and burn the shit to ash. It won't grow back on its own from the ashes. Now shoo.”

“How's the research coming by the way?” Stiles asked with hope in his voice.

Lydia responded by chucking a book at his head.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't make promises you can't keep.

 Chapter Sixteen

“I'm going.”

“That is a horrible idea.”

“Fuck you. I'm going.”

Stiles flopped backwards on his bed. “Derek, we can handle a little lacrosse game. I burned the Wolfsbane and it hasn't grown back. We've played a game on the full moon before.”

“With everything that's been going on, there's no way in hell I won't be there.”

“Don't you think it'd be safer to be somewhere else? The President and the Vice President don't fly together for a reason.”

Derek crossed his arms, leaning against Stiles's desk, smirking, ready for the fight. “What if I just wanted to go to see you play?”

“That's not why. Besides, if you wanted to see me play, you'd have to be attending in Fantasyland.”

“You helped win the big game last year.”

“Yeah. And most of our team was scared werewolves, and our captain was a lizard-man.”

“I'm sure you could have scored without all the distractions.” Derek kicked off the desk, running his hands through Stiles's hair. “But fight me all you want. I'll be there regardless.”

Stiles leaned against Derek's stomach with a sigh. “Fucking stubborn. At least you're learning how to use your words. I should thank you by the way. Your little stunt made me the talk of the entire school. Though most people think I got attacked by a mountain lion.”

“Will you stop complaining? They're already almost gone.”

“Yeah the bite marks are. The hickeys are still apparent. Why'd you do that, hm?”

“Because.”

“I'm gonna need more than that, Derek.”

“I'm the Alpha. You're mine. Now, everyone knows that.”

“That. That is so creepy.” Stiles leaned back, grinning at Derek. “Are you aware of how terrifying that sounds?”

“I don't really care.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured you'd say that.” Stiles fiddled with the belt loops on Derek's jeans. “So I'm all yours, hm? You sure I'm okay with that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Fair enough.”

Derek ran his fingers over Stiles's shoulders. “You're still tense.”

“Yeah, well. You can be when you're stuck thinking something horrible is going to happen.” Stiles sighed, pulling away from Derek and getting up, nervous energy emanating through his bones. “Sucks when it happens to you early.... This feeling that you can get – that you're drowning and you can't get out. I-- I remember feeling it right before my mom died.” Stiles ran a hand down his face. “Just standing there, knowing there was nothing I could do. That nothing was going to change. That it was going to suck no matter what I did. And I couldn't stop thinking--- how... _how_ does a person go on without his _mom?_ That's not how a kid should have to think. And now? I just keep thinking the same thing? How do I go on without Scott? Without you? Without any of you guys? I may not be a werewolf but I'm part of this pack. The decisions you guys make directly affects me. I just... I don't know if I have it in me to watch everyone I love get taken away. I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Stiles.” Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles's shoulders, pulling him in close. “I _promise_ I will do anything and everything in my power to make sure you and the rest of the pack are safe.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Stiles murmured into Derek's chest, his voice muffled.

They came thunking down the stairs after a little while, Derek sniffing out for food in the fridge.

“I can make something.”

“I don't trust you with an oven. Or a microwave. Or Pop Tarts. I can cook.”

“Hey, you said you would teach me.”

“Consider this your first lesson, then,” Derek replied and he looked downright cheerful, spinning a frying pan in his hand. Stiles thought it was cute. Derek liked teaching things. It just took a little work to get out of violent ways of doing them.

“What's going on in here?” Stiles's dad walked in and immediately eyed Derek.

Derek half-waved. “We were about to make something to eat.”

“Stiles, where's Scott? You don't hang with him anymore?”

Stiles blushed, glancing at Derek, who frowned, a little annoyed.

“He's just not here right now. That's all...”

Sheriff Stilinski crossed his arms. “I think it's time you were honest with me.”

_Oh my God. He knows. He knows about the werewolves. He KNOWS. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS._ Stiles schooled his face even though his mind was going a million miles a minute. He glanced at Derek who was standing, stoic, though he was certain his mind was in the same place. Stiles was miserable. He didn't want his dad to find out the hard way. He really wanted to sit him down and tell him when the time was right. He just hadn't quite--

“Dad, Derek is--”

“Your boyfriend.”

Stiles's mouth hung open. He couldn't quite remember how to make sounds. He looked at Derek, then at his dad, then back at Derek, then _back at his dad_.

_Say somethiiiiing. Say somethiiiiiing!_ Stiles kept trying to muster words, but, alas, nothing.

“Y-yeah,” Derek finally said, slowly placing the frying pan down – out of reaching distance from Stiles's father. “Actually.”

_Boyfriend?_ Stiles was staring full on at Derek now. Boyfriend. He was Derek's boyfriend.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Not... not a long time. Well, a while. I don't know.”

“Dad--” Stiles started.

“Well. I guess that means I really do need to get to know you, hm?” Sheriff Stilinski grabbed the frying pan. Derek flinched without meaning to. “So what are we cooking, Mr. Hale? Or should I call you Derek?”

…

“Don't fuck up,” was Coach Finstock's final words in the locker room, which, hey, wasn't the speech from _Independence Day_ but whatever.

Stiles was a ball of nerves, tapping his fingers against his knees, already dressed as the rest of the room padded up for the game. He knew Derek was probably out in the stands, eyes casting over the field. Oh, and probably sitting next to Stiles's _dad_ , because they got along fucking awesomely when it came to cooking. It was a little nuts.

Scott was a little over-energetic too.

“Did you talk to Allison?” Stiles asked.

“I tried. She wasn't feeling well. Still really sore. She fell asleep talking to me.”

“Did she remember anything?”

“Not much. Her description of the werewolf sounded like the one we found the other day.”

“Come on, boys. Let's play.” Danny ruffled their hair as he hopped over the bench. “Stop looking like you're both about to hurl. We got this.”

Stiles reached for his phone, making a face. “Hey. I think I left my phone in my locker? I don't have it on me.”

“Who cares? You don't need it to play.”

“Yeah, well, considering I will not be _playing_...”

“Hurry up and find it. I'll see you out there.” Scott gripped Stiles's shoulder and headed out.

…

He'd gotten there early, staring down the black ash surrounding the field, piled in corners where the landscaper had raked it up. Stiles's dad was rubbing his hands together, trying to keep warm, waiting for the team to come out.

“Hey there.”

Derek looked up first to see Ms. McCall, smiling at the two of them. Peter was right though. She was really pretty. By the way Sheriff Stilinski straightened up, Derek was pretty sure he thought so too.

“I don't think I've seen you frequenting these games, Derek. Are you here to see Stiles?”

Derek grimaced, embarrassed. Apparently he was not very discreet.

Derek's phone buzzed. “Sorry. Just a second.”

_Meet me in the locker room. -Stiles_

He raised his eyebrows. “I'll, uh... be right back.”

He got up, letting Ms. McCall take his seat, a little amused at how quickly the two became chummy with the distance closed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and carefully made his way down the bleachers just as Scott was hitting the field, Isaac in tow.

“Hey Derek. Where you headed?”

“Oh. Stiles texted me. I'll be right back out.”

“Hurry back. The seats fill fast.”

“Kick ass, guys,” Derek said. He didn't really know how to spur excitement in sports-players anymore. It'd been a long time since he'd been to a game.

He slid around the back of the locker room, popping his head in before sliding through the door. “Stiles? You okay?”

The room was oddly silent, especially for Stiles. Except for a buzzing. He could see the bright screen of a cell phone on the floor in the corner. He reached down and picked it up.

_This is Stiles's phone,_ he thought, confused. Lydia's name was flashing on the screen.

“Hey.”

Derek looked up, his heart jumping just a little in his chest. He immediately relaxed when Stiles reached out and took the phone, ignoring the call.

“What's up? Why'd you call me back here?”

Stiles shoved Derek into the locker, bruising him with a kiss. Derek pulled away, amused. “I hope you're not just hoping I get you off to get rid of your pre-game jitters.”

“If it was, would you hold it against me?”

“Mm...” Derek considered it. “Probably not.”

…

“Hey, I got water,” Stiles said, tossing a couple of plastic bottles at Scott and Isaac. “I figured if I was gonna be benched I could at least hit up a vending machine before the game.”

“Did you ever find your phone?”

“No, dude. I'm sure I just dropped it. I'll look for it later.” He looked up at the stands. “Where's Derek?”

Scott chuckled. “Probably helping you look for your phone... which you texted him from.”

“What?”

“Hey, guys?” Danny said, holding up his cell phone. “Lydia wants to talk to you for some reason?”

…

Derek shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of leather as Stiles pushed him down onto a bench. He was actually a little impressed with Stiles being so forward. It was kind of really fucking attractive. It felt like Stiles's hands were everywhere, sliding down his shoulders and over his legs. He pulled at Derek's lip with his teeth, rucking his shirt up over his head and throwing it aside.

“So forward, Stiles,” Derek chuckled against Stiles's mouth.

“Shut up,” Stiles replied, scraping his teeth down the side of Derek's neck. Derek groaned, low in his chest.

…

“Lydia?” Scott asked, straining to hear her over the crowd.

“ _SCOTT._ You're dealing with a fairy!”

“What?”

Lydia was frantic. “A fairy. Particularly one that has elemental control of plants. And those markings on that werewolf? She's being controlled through them! It's like a collar. And here's the worst part, Scott. She's a _shapeshifter._ ”

Scott's heart dropped.

“She's using the werewolf to fight along side her! And I'm betting she would love to have a few new pets! Oh, and the name Otrok? That's Czech for _SLAVE!_ ”

“Oh my God.” He looked at Stiles. “We need to find Derek. Now.”

“McCall!” Finstock yelled. “Get on the fucking field! What are you doing?!”

Scott panicked. “But Coach--”

“Go!” Finstock grabbed the phone and tossed it in the grass. Scott looked at Stiles with wide eyes, but Stiles was already booking it for the locker room.

…

Derek gasped, pain shooting into his legs. He wrenched away from Stiles with a yell.

Vines had sprouted through the grout in the tile, winding up his legs, shooting thorns into his skin. When he looked back at Stiles, he was smirking, his eyes dark and... _green?_

“Beautiful aren't they? You know, Wolfsbane doesn't typically have thorns. I figured out how to do that all on my own. Yellow is my favorite, too. So innocent a color.”

Derek felt like his lungs were filling with concrete. He scratched at his chest, claws sprouting from his fingers. Stiles kept a thumb pressed firmly between his collarbones, burning there, white-hot as he stared him down.

“See, not very many people appreciate that. It's kind of like this face. So innocent. Even a distrustful wolf like _you_ can fall for it. And I mean that in plenty of ways.”

Derek tried to move, but vines had slithered around him, holding him to the bench, their poison leaking into his veins. He gulped air with difficulty, struggling against his restraints, eyes glowing red and teeth baring.

“I'm sorry. Would this be a more appropriate face?” Stiles's face shifted dramatically before Derek's eyes, stretching and shaping into Kate's, with the malice in her eyes, her lips quirked. “I feel like you'd prefer to be killed by someone you hate. But here's the thing, puddin'. I don't actually want to kill you.” She kissed him on the forehead, patting his face, pulling her thumb away. His chest still ached and burned where she had touched. “But sometimes we all have to do things we don't want.”

She slid away from him. “Well, I don't want to miss the game. I hear it's a pretty big deal around here.”  
Derek watched in horror as Kate's body transformed into his own, casually sauntering right out the back door. He could feel the blood starting to leak from his nose.

“No. _NO._ ” Derek wrenched his body against the vines, toppling over onto the floor. He tried to slice through the plants with his claws, but his arms were basically sealed to his sides. He couldn't get his fingers near them. He could see Stiles's cell phone, just beyond his reach. “...Stiles...” He dipped his head, tugging at one of the vines with his teeth, feeling the thorns cutting the inside of his mouth, tasting the blood on his teeth.

He inched closer to it, still trying to make way on the vine, eyes watering. Stiles's phone lit up like a beacon, painful to Derek's eyes, suddenly sensitive. The entire world seemed to be brightening to hideous, burning hues. It was Sheriff Stilinski. He could see the word _Dad_ on the display.

He just managed to hit the _Answer_ button with his nose.

“Stiles? Where are you, kiddo? You took off running. What's going on?”

“H---” Derek swallowed air his voice failing him and muffled against the vine.. “Help--”

“Hello? Hello?”

The phone went dead.

…

Stiles stumbled in his pursuit for the locker room door, then outright tripped, colliding with the ground, petals flying all around him. “Wha?”

Red flowers were blooming all over the place.

He could hear the game coming to a halt behind him, hushed sounds of surprise and confusion. The door to the locker room opened up and out walked Derek. He looked down at Stiles.

“Stiles?”

Stiles breathed a small sigh of relief. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

“Looking for you. I guess we just missed each other. You told me to meet you.”

“That wasn't me, dude. Someone has my phone.” Stiles scrambled up with Derek's help, panic setting back in. “Lydia called. She says that we're fighting a fucking... shapeshifter! That controls plants and wants to control werewolves and...” Stiles cast his eyes to the ground. “Faye is... doing something right now...” Derek stiffened visibly.

He looked up at Derek, swallowing. “Your eyes aren't green.”

Derek punched him square in the nose. Lights out.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That girl is poison.

Chapter Seventeen

“What the fuck?” Scott stumbled backwards as a giant plant burst through the ground in the middle of the field. The player he'd been chasing was thrown quite a few feet.

The entire field hushed in confusion. Scott looked at Isaac only to see him falling, falling, falling. Scott grabbed him before he hit the ground. “Isaac!”

He had puncture wounds all over his legs, thorny plants slithering away from his feet. “I don't feel so hot,” Isaac whimpered, his eyes glowing gold, skin clammy against Scott's.

“What are those?”

Scott narrowly avoided one of the vines, darting at him like a snake.

“Red Wolfsbane. My own creation. Isn't it beautiful?”

Scott turned to see Faye, dragging Stiles by the wrist behind her, his body grooving into the ground. “You know, I'm actually a little surprised this fellow isn't a wolf like you, Scott. Sleeping with one? Best friends with another? You'd think he'd want to run along in the forests with you. But, hey. He's actually useless.” She dropped his wrist and he was covered in vines, cocooned.

Scott felt his blood boiling. Faye flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I'm a little tired of the games, Scott. What say you just come quietly?”

“Fuck you.”

“That's about what I expected.”

“Hey!” Finstock came barreling up to her, all anger and testosterone. “What the fuck are you doing on my field?!”

“Oh shut up.” Faye rolled her eyes, blowing dust in his face. Finstock went down like a sack of potatoes.

Scott scanned the stands for his mother and Sheriff Stilinski. Nothing. Isaac bared his teeth, jumping for Faye even though he wasn't really in shape for it. She dodged easily, clucking her tongue. “Ah ah ah, I wouldn't recommend that. See, my Red Wolfsbane is beautiful, but it is also pretty lethal to... your people. Getting your blood moving probably isn't a great idea.”

Scott attacked. He didn't give a fuck if anyone saw. He was furious. She was hurting his friends and that was _not_ okay. Erica and Boyd rushed the field, helping Isaac up.

“Get him out of here,” Boyd directed Erica. “Find Derek.”

“He was _here!_ ” Erica screeched, fear and loathing in her eyes. “Where the fuck did he go?!”

…

“Stiles?”

Ms. McCall's voice was significantly less frantic than Sheriff Stilinski's. Years of working in a hospital probably prepared her for plenty of things. Maybe not a werewolf bleeding to death on the floor though.

“Derek!” Sheriff Stilinski knelt over him, pulling out a pocket knife and sawing at the vines around him. Derek heard them hiss, slithering away. He groaned as the thorns relinquished their hold on him. “Derek, stay with me. What happened?”

“Move,” Ms. McCall stepped in, leaning close, murmuring in Derek's ear. “Derek? Was that Wolfsbane?”

“Y-yes,” Derek choked out.

“Derek, where's Stiles?”

Stiles? Stiles! Derek shot up even though every inch of his body protested it. “You don't know?” He breathed, his chest too heavy and too tight.

“You ran off looking for him and he ran off looking for you! Are you telling me you two just missed each other?”

“Not exactly.” Derek's eyes glowed red and he headed for the door, black blood running down his arms and legs. He couldn't even feel it. All he could do was think of the promise he'd made Stiles.

“You shouldn't be standing, Derek!” Ms. McCall reached to stop him and he roared at her, pulling away from her outstretched hand.

“I have to help him.”

Sheriff Stilinski grabbed her gently by the arm, pulling her back, staring, stunned. He could hear him on his way out the door.

“Okay, you want to explain that to me?”

…

Faye was light on her feet, that was for sure. Scott couldn't seem to deliver any strong blows to her because she was so quick, fluttering across the grass like she was hovering.

Then Scott figured out that she was.

“Fucking fairies,” he seethed, pouncing for her.

“Oh, Scott. You're so dull. You lack tactic. All you do is run and fight?”

It wasn't like she gave him much options to strategize. He was on her field, her ground. Boyd and Scott circled her. People were running for their lives as large plants exploded from the ground, the creak of metal loud in Scott's ears as the bleachers were utterly destroyed. It was coming down to mythical creatures and the unconscious Finstock. Awesome.

“At least I don't send people off to fight for me. Too afraid of Allison to take her down yourself, but fine with stealing her likeness?”

“I'm fine with stealing anyone's likeness,” she replied, downright chipper, taking the form of Scott's mom. “How is this for you? Your mom's hot, Scott. She must be quite the man-eater. Speaking of which...” She did a little twirl, shifting into Lydia, smirking with her signature pouty lips. “I actually like Lydia. It's a shame she had to ruin my fun. I guess I'll kill her quickly.” She shifted into Isaac. “And this fellow had such a cute face. Would've made a great pet if he could just stop being such an asshole.”

Boyd roared, scratching at her. She created a forcefield of plants, twisting up around her, covering her from view.

“You're a coward!” Scott yelled.

“Mm, no. You're just outmatched.” She let out a sudden screech, turning quickly in her pod. “ _YOU!_ ”

Danny was ripping the vines away from Stiles's body, digging him out of the mess with bloody hands. Stiles's body was limp and lifeless, pale, with what looked like endless tiny cuts all over him. The rage boiled over in Scott and he threw himself at her pod, ripping at the leaves violently until he could see her fucking face. Allison looked up at him with innocent eyes.

He didn't think twice. He slashed her across the face.

She screamed a banshee shriek, glowing white-hot, giant spikes shooting from the ground. Scott gasped as one ran him right through. The ground shook and she returned to her normal state, green-eyes hideous and angry.

“Scott!” Boyd was pulling him off the spike. Scott puked blood, holding his wound as it closed on it's own. “Scott! You okay?”

“Been better,” Scott grunted. “Where's Stiles and Danny?”

“I think Danny got him up on what's left of the bleachers, but that's not much.”

“Go help him. It's too dangerous for them to be here.”

“Are you nuts? No way. I'm not leaving you here.”

“Just _go_ , Boyd!”

“No! We're a pack. We fight together.”

A loud, violent roar pierced the air. Even Faye looked momentarily terrified, blood running down her face. Scott and Boyd turned to the source.

A giant, black, red-eyed beast stood in the glow of the full moon, seething, blind in rage. Blood dripped off of his teeth and from puncture wounds in his body, pooling on the ground.

“Derek?” Scott whispered, seeing flashbacks of Peter Hale's scary kill-everything Alpha form.

He was horrified... but at the same time, Scott could feel a strength building inside of him, the heat in his eyes, the crack of his claws. And his mind started to grow cloudy.

_Kill._

_KILL._

_KILL._

…

“Stiles? Stiles.”

Stiles groaned, coming to, touching gingerly to his broken nose. “Owww fuck.”

His entire body stung like he'd laid in a rose bush. Or like a whole field of them. His vision blurred into focus and he could see Danny hovering over him, a cut above his eyebrow. He was shaking Stiles awake with bloody hands.

“Danny?”

“Hey there. You okay?”

“Don't ask me. Look at you, man.”

Danny swallowed, glancing out at the field. “I'm okay. What about our teammates? What the fuck is that?”

“Oh man.” Stiles sat up, bleary. “That is a really long story, Danny. I don't know if I'm up to telling it right now....”

He saw the massive shadow that was Derek's Alpha form. Fear struck his heart, cold and sobering. “Oh. That is not good.”

“I gathered that.”

“Derek!” Stiles yelled out, trying to get to his feet, ignoring the spinning in his skull.

Faye gathered her Wolfsbane around her, it letting loose puffs of red-pink pollen.

“She's going to kill them.” Stiles's heart sank.

“I don't know. It looks like they're pretty... bloodthirsty.”

Derek and Scott ripped away at the foliage, but Faye had vanished behind her screen of plants.

“Stiles!”

Stiles looked to the side of the field. His dad and Ms. McCall were running for him. “Dad!”

Derek saw them first. The hulking beast growled, blind to who he was attacking.

“Derek, no!”

Scott actually turned to them too, teeth bared, eyes red, but Boyd grabbed hold and held him back. Derek wasn't to be stopped. He rushed at Stiles's dad and Scott's mom with fury in his bones.

“ _DEREK!”_ Stiles dove from the bleachers, grabbing the beast's arm, blood sliding all over his fingers. Stiles's dad held a protective arm up, pushing Ms. McCall behind him, fear in his eyes as Derek loomed over them. Stiles squeezed at his arm. “Please, stop, Derek. _Please._ ”

“Think of Allison, Scott!” Boyd yelled. Scott thrashed against Boyd's grip before tiring out, his rage cooling.

Derek shrank back to normal size, his fur turning to skin, his eyes softening. Stiles's hands shook against him. Only back in his usual skin could Stiles see the extent of Derek's injuries.

“Derek... Oh God, Derek...”

Derek slumped to the ground, black blood leaking from his nose and his ears and the sides of his lip.

“Dr. Deaton's on the way, Derek,” Ms. McCall said, kneeling down and taking his face in her hands. “Stay with us, okay?”

Derek's eyes rolled slowly over to Stiles. “I'm--- sorry.”

Stiles felt tears spring to his eyes. “Don't start that shit. Don't even.” He cradled Derek's head in his arms and squeezed him close to his chest, looking to his father for _something._ He knew that his dad didn't know what the fuck to do, but he just thought that maybe something magic would happen. Stranger things had happened.

“Stiles!” Scott came rushing up. “Oh... Derek. Is he gonna be okay?”

“I dunno,” Stiles replied, his voice raw in his throat. “He must've... he must've come in contact with more Yellow Wolfsbane. I... his skin is so hot, Scott.”

“We lost Faye,” Boyd said, approaching. “I gotta find Erica and Isaac. Isaac's in bad shape too.” He breathed, looking a little lost. “Oh man...”

“Isaac too?” Ms. McCall frowned. “Okay. Let me see what I can do until Deaton gets here.” She looked to Stiles's father. “I need you to go to my car and get the first aid kit out of the trunk.” She handed him the keys. “Hurry.”

“I got it. But why not call an ambulance?”

“Trust me. This is not something hospital will be able to handle.” She ran a hand through her curls. “I don't even know if I can do anything.” She looked at Scott. “Scott, go find Isaac. Bring him here. Stiles, lay him down.”

Stiles didn't want to let go. But he did.

Derek didn't look like he was alive. He was stone still with the exception of his eyes, rolling listlessly from person to person, unable to stay focused.

“I got it, Melissa.” Stiles's dad came running back with the kit. She took it from him, putting ice packs on Derek's neck.

Scott came around the bend with Isaac on his back, and he was completely lifeless. He flopped onto the grass, his skin paler than the moon, completely limp. Erica followed up slowly, her eyes watering, looking strung out.

“He stopped breathing three times already...” she whispered.

“Isaac. Isaac!” Scott yelled. “Hey!”

Isaac didn't stir.

“Damn it...”

“Stiles, try to keep Derek cool until Deaton gets here. Scott, I need you to help me with CPR.”

“Dad, grab the water cooler.” Stiles indicated to the large orange tank that they were supposed to use to keep players hydrated. No one ever drank from it for the opportunity to pour it over Finstock's head in the case of a win.

He dumped it on Derek. Stiles ripped the vile from his neck, looking at the small amount left. “Shit, this isn't much...” He paused. “Wait.”

He scanned the field, the large pile of ash on the other side, hardly tainted from the fight. “But we can make more!”

Derek's eyes rolled back in his head. “Hang on, Derek,” Stiles said. “Derek?”

Sheriff Stilinski leaned over him, listening. “He's not breathing.”

“No!”

“Scott, keep giving him CPR,” Melissa commanded, all boss.

Scott blushed a little but started with the mouth-to-mouth. Melissa leaned over Derek's chest, listening. “He's got fluid in his lungs. Give me that syringe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just give me the damn syringe!” She took it and jabbed it into Derek's chest, pulling the plunger. The syringe filled with thick, black fluid. It smelled rancid, like Derek was rotting from the inside out. Derek choked on air.

Scott pumped Isaac's chest and kept breathing for him. Stiles could see his veins popping and changing color as he tried to heal him as much as he could.

“Danny, give me your phone,” Stiles demanded. Danny was still watching in horror as the McCall's tried to revive the fallen wolves. He handed it over to Stiles without question.

Stiles dialed Lydia. “Where the fuck are you?”

“What?”

“You don't drop a bomb like that and then not show. Isaac and Derek are _dying._ I need your help!”

“Stiles, I'm on my way there now, but the road is blocked by... plants. It's like this whole damn town is overgrown!” Then, a pause. “Hold on. Let me do a little chemistry.”

Lydia carried chemicals in her car. Of course she did.

Stiles heard an explosion on the other end. “I'm back. They're burning away. What do you need? I'm on my way.”

“There's a lot of Yellow Wolfsbane ash. I need to turn it into an antidote, because I don't have a lot.”

“Fine. I'll see what I can do. You're lucky I've been reading up on this.”

She hung up. Stiles poured the remaining powder in his hand and pushed it to the puncture Scott's mom had created. Derek grimaced, shifting under his hand, but Stiles held it still.

“Hang on, Derek. Hang on.”

Even with the antidote starting to course into Derek's body, Stiles still felt like he was slipping from his fingers. Erica put her hands on Derek's shoulders, her hands growing black as she tried to take some of the pain away. Boyd put a hand on Derek and Isaac's ankle, taking some of the burden as well.

It was actually quite beautiful. The _pack._

It was probably the first time Stiles had ever seen them all come together.

He just hoped it was helping.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost dying is better than dying at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HNNNNNG THE NEW EPISODE WAS AMAZIIIIING

Chapter Eighteen

Derek faded in and out of consciousness. Shapes and images moved in blurs before his eyes, in and out of the darkness, voices murmuring in his ears, undecipherable. He kept trying to move, but his limbs felt like they were solid, like he had met Medusa and was turning to stone. His head hurt. God, it hurt. It felt like he had something scratching to get out of his skull, ripping apart his insides and clawing through his veins.

He dreamed of Laura, humming softly under her breath as she did the dishes. He dreamed of his family. He dreamed of their screams. Of fire. Of Kate.

He rolled his head to the side, groaning. The more he woke up, the more everything hurt. He really wanted to go back to sleep. Even his nightmares were better than this. He felt fingers card through his hair.

“Mmuh... Laura... stop,” he murmured, stirring.

He opened his eyes and immediately closed them, the lights burning his retinas. “Ah--” He didn't have the energy to yell, he just winced, pulling his heavy hand up and covering his face.

“Sorry.” The lights went off. Stiles sat back down by the bed. “Yeah, you're gonna be in rough shape for awhile. Deaton and Lydia made an IV drip for you.”

“Stiles,” Derek breathed his name, reaching out for him, stroking his face with calloused fingers. “I'm sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“What about...” Derek took a breath. “The pack?”

Stiles grew quiet, still carding his fingers through Derek's hair. “Most of them are fine.... Isaac's still in really bad shape. Lydia and Deaton are fighting the poison, but it's not an actual plant. It was created by Faye.”

Derek blinked back sudden tears, frustrated. “Shit.”

“He's tough, Derek. He'll be okay.”

He felt like he'd failed his pack.

Again.

…

“Isaac's heart is still racing.” Lydia said, looking exhausted. “We're pumping him full of antidote, but I don't know how well it's going to work.”

“Thanks for all your help, Lydia,” Deaton said, patting her shoulder. “You are a very brilliant young lady.”

“Eh. I read a lot.” She ran her hands through her hair and cringed. “Ew. I'm all greasy. Have all the plants died away?”

“Yeah. Every last one of them. It's like they were never there,” Erica said, curled up in Boyd's lap, half asleep.

“Ms. McCall said Finstock woke up at the hospital pissed off and disoriented but otherwise okay,” Boyd added. “She said there were some injuries reported but all together everyone got out alright. Traffic accidents all over though from the plants crowding the streets.”

“Where's Scott?”

“He went for a walk. He's pretty out of it right now.”

“Sure it's safe for him to be alone?”

Erica glanced out the window. “Safe for us maybe.”

…

Allison woke up to the cold breeze hitting her in the face. She gasped, reaching for her crossbow only to hesitate, seeing Scott sitting on her windowsill, quiet.

“Scott?”

He looked rough. His clothes were torn in places where his skin had been cut. The skin had healed, but he was hunched over like it hadn't. His hair stuck out at odd ends and his eyes were lost. Just completely lost. He nodded a little at her, acknowledging her presence, but not really making any move to do anything else.

Allison slid out of bed slowly, mindful of her injury, padding across the carpet to his sillhouette. “Scott, what happened? What's wrong?”

He slid an arm around her, pulling her close, burying his nose in her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, relaxing into her, holding her like he would never let go.

“Scott, you're scaring me. What happened? Talk to me.”

“I'm so afraid, Allison,” he whispered, “I'm not going to be able to save anyone...”

She rocked him against her, scratching at the base of his skull, the dirty hair there. “Scott...”

“Derek almost died. Isaac still might. Everyone I love was in danger and I couldn't do anything. I wasn't there to help you when you were attacked. I couldn't do anything for anyone.”

“You are strong, Scott. You do amazing things all the time. Bad things happen.” She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands so she could look him in the eyes. “That is not your fault, Scott. You're doing everything you can. It will all be okay.”

“I want to believe you.” He sniffed. “I... I felt his heart beat under my hands. I felt it dying off. And I just keep pushing down and pushing down and trying to make it normal. I-- I don't know. I don't want to let anyone else down.”

Allison kissed him on the forehead. Then, after a pause, their lips met and Scott was devouring her, open-mouthed, desperate. She kissed back with ferocity. She'd missed him. She'd missed him so much....

She fell back on her bed, wincing as her wound smarted beneath the bandages, but Scott was gentle with her. He slid her tank top up over her head, feathering little kisses over her skin. She chewed her lip, trying to be quiet. This had to be quick. She slid a hand over to her nightstand, digging in the drawer for a condom, handing it off to Scott.

He smiled at her in the dark. She returned it.

…

Derek had slipped back into slumber, his chest rising and falling with a bit more ease than it had been. Stiles sat with him for awhile, but finally decided to get up when his own eyelids started to droop. Pretty much everyone else was in the same boat. Erica was curled up with Boyd on a bench, snoozing and tangled with him. Lydia was sitting at an exam table, flopped over a book, dead to the world for the time being, her hair splayed down her back and over her folded arms. She actually drooled. And snored. Stiles made a mental not for future extortion. Dr. Deaton was still working over Isaac, and he was still pale and unmoving.

“How's he doing?”

Deaton hung another IV. “He's fighting.”

“Where's Scott?”

“He... needed some air.”

“Yeah, I feel that.” Stiles sighed, scratching his neck, walking to the window. “I guess I need to talk to my dad, huh? Scott's mom definitely gave him the run down, but...” He frowned. “I really didn't want him to find out this way. I should've just told him.”

“We all have secrets.”

“I'd appreciate if you'd quit with the cryptic stuff, doc. Not in the mood.” Stiles put his hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot as he looked outside. “I wonder where Faye went?”

“I don't know.” Deaton sounded weary. “I'd prefer it if she'd stay gone for awhile though.”

“She won't.”

Stiles jumped, Peter appearing through the door quickly. “Jesus! Did your family take a fucking class on sneaking up on people and spouting one-liners? Ugh.”

“Maybe it's in the blood.” Peter shrugged, far from phased. “Anyway. Where's Derek?”

“He's sleeping. Leave him alone, Peter.” Stiles glared. “He needs to rest.”

“What, I'm not allowed to see him while he's sleeping? That kid fell asleep on the sofa constantly growing up and I watched him then without disturbing him. What the hell is different now?”

“When you went nuts and attacked everyone. That changed a lot of things.”

Peter rolled his eyes, overdramatic. “Will you _stop_ bringing that up? I'm not nearly as vicious now. Unless you cross me.”

“Let him sleep, okay?” Stiles argued. “He almost fucking died and I didn't see you around to help.”

“I wasn't around. I dropped off Lydia's dictionary and then went searching for clues. I sniffed something strange on my way back to her house. Found that werewolf you were talking about. Except she wasn't in human form. She looked like a dog. And your little fairy friend was walking her.”

“Wow you figured out something we already know,” Stiles snarled. “Fantastic detective skills.”

“You don't want to know _why_ she keeps werewolves as a pet? Or why she attacked everyone this evening? Fine. I'll leave.”

“Don't be a sour--” Stiles started, then stopped himself. “What do you know, Peter?”

“I decided to go looking for info on the little wolf. I put together some of the things Lydia told me – like the languages she was studying and the origin of the plants. I figured this girl was Czech, or from somewhere near there. Now, we don't have a lot of information on these things, but I _did_ know someone in college who had werewolf kin overseas.” Peter smirked. “We got into a lot of trouble back then. But he took a wolfsbane bullet to the leg and sawed it off before it got to his heart. Doesn't get around much now.”

“Topic, please.”

“He called his family. They emailed me this picture.” He pulled out a piece of paper, revealing a little girl with bright blue eyes, grinning at the camera. She didn't look any older than five.

“Is that... is that her?”

“I'm not sure. Looks like her though. And she's been missing for ten years. She'd be about this girl's age now.”

“How did her parents lose her?”

“Oh, this came from her aunt. Her parents were slaughtered.”

Stiles's stomach flipped.

“Yeah. Apparently their entire home was engulfed in Wolfsbane. They couldn't escape. They were sliced to bits on spikes and the house was burned to the ground. Sound familiar?”

Stiles leaned against the counter, letting out a long breath he was aware he was holding. “Shit.”

“See, I'm not useless.”

“What does this tell us?”

“Well, it does make one wonder why a fairy hates werewolves so much when usually they hardly meet at all.”

“Are you saying that she's fucking justified for what she did to our pack?!” Stiles felt anger swell in him and he definitely considered clocking Peter, even though it would probably lead to his inevitable death.

“No. I'm _saying_ that creatures don't go that brutal without having a reason.”

“Yeah well.” Stiles glanced at Isaac, trembling ever-so-slightly on the table. “I have reasons now.”

…

Derek was face down in a bucket, puking his guts out.

Not exactly the way he wanted to wake up.

“Hey,” Stiles opened the door then froze in the doorway when Derek held up a hand.

“Kind of a bad time,” he said. His stomach gave way again and he heaved, his entire body hurting as it convulsed. “ _Oh my God why._ ”

Stiles chuckled a little. “You are a wimp when it comes to illness. It means you're getting better. Your body is fighting the toxins.” Stiles approached and then gagged, backing away. “That smells rancid.”

Derek pulled his head out of the bucket, glaring at Stiles, taking a shuddering breath. “I don't feel better, Stiles. I feel _worse._ ”

Stiles frowned, holding his breath and reaching out and touching Derek's forehead. “You're burning up.”

Derek's head spun and his eyes rolled upwards. Stiles shook his shoulders. “Hey. _Hey._ Don't pass out.”

“I'll try,” Derek seethed, closing his eyes to close out the vertigo. Like had any control over it. His entire body felt like it was on fire. And apparently his stomach and brain wanted to bail before it got worse.

“Deaton!” Stiles called out.

Derek flopped back over the bucket, heaving. He was starting to wonder if his spine would break. His body was working way too fucking hard.

“Gross,” Peter said from the doorway. Derek flipped him off. If he wasn't vomiting, he figured he would've seen Stiles do the same.

His heart was pounding in his ears and each thump delivered the worst pain he'd ever felt to his skull. It was like he was being shot in the head repeatedly. Deaton was there suddenly, pulling his head out of the bucket and shining a light in both his eyes. Derek smacked his hand away, feeling lightheaded, falling back. Stiles helped lower him back down onto the cot.

“What's wrong with him?”

“His body is fighting the toxins,” Deaton said, calm and collected. “He's just dehydrated. Let me hang another IV of fluids. It could be a reaction to healing through the antidote.”

“What about Isaac?” Derek asked, his throat sore.

“Worry about you right now, Derek,” Peter said.

Derek shook his head, whispers filling his ears, convoluted and difficult to understand.

“Derek?” Stiles's voice broke through them as he waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hey. Focus.” He grabbed the bucket and handed it to Peter. “Take this.”

“Ew.”

“Clean it out or get the fuck out. Your choice.”

“The mouth on this one. Hope it's worth it, Derek.”

“Oh _fuck you_ , Peter,” Derek groaned.

The whispers faded away. Deaton hung another IV, sliding the needle into Derek's arm. “This should help. I would give you some medication for the nausea, but it is helping to get the toxin out of your system.”

“Sure I'm not rotting from the inside out?” Derek asked, his voice husky from the strain. He was only half-kidding.

“You _were_ ,” Deaton said very matter-of-factly. “But I think you're on the mend now. If we can keep you hydrated.”

He touched a spot on his chest, hot and hurting. He tried to ignore it.

…

“How is he?” Scott came running in, looking wiped out.

Erica and Boyd had knowing faces by Scott's scent, but even Stiles could tell Scott had been with Allison. He always had some sort of floaty, walking-on-air feel to him when he did. Considering he'd probably left treading concrete, it was a slight improvement.

“Derek's getting better.”

“What about Isaac?” He moved quickly to the table where Isaac was, still unmoving.

“He's not any worse,” Erica said. “But no improvement either.”

“What?” Scott sagged visibly, completely defeated.

“We're going to try something else,” Deaton said, checking Isaac's vitals. “Lydia?”

She held up a syringe, looking nervous. “We made a concentrated dose.”

“Will it work?” Scott asked.

“It could.” Lydia's hand was shaking. “It could also kill him.”

“The pain will be overwhelming,” Deaton explained, trying to level with Scott. “His heart... it may not be able to take it in the condition it's in. He'll be flushing the toxin out of his veins all at once. His body could attack itself.”

“Then let me take on some of the pain,” Scott said with sudden resoluteness.

“What.” Stiles stared. “Are you nuts?”

“He's part of _my_ pack. I can take it.”

“Me too,” Erica said.

“Me too,” Boyd said.

“No,” Scott said. “You two are still in peak performance. If we get attacked again, we need to have at least some of us ready to fight. We don't know how this is going to affect me _or_ Isaac.”

“Which is why it's stupid to do this!” Stiles yelled, exasperated. “ _Scott--_ ”

He'd made up his mind. He grabbed Isaac's hand. “Do it.”

“Oh my God.” Stiles ran his hands down his face. “Fuck everything. Fuck _every_ thing.”

“Scott. Are you _sure?_ ” Deaton was serious.

He squeezed Isaac's hand. For a second, Stiles was certain he saw it squeeze back, albeit very weakly.

“Okay...” He took the syringe from Lydia and slid it into Isaac's arm.

Blackness slithered up Scott's arm immediately and he sucked in air through his nose, eyes going wide. Black blood poured from Isaac's nose, lips, eyes and ears, and his muscles tensed, his body going rigid on the table.

“What the fuck is happening?”

Derek's voice was low in his throat and he was relying very heavily on the wall to walk, dragging his IV pole along with him.

“Derek!” Stiles jumped, turning to look at his boyfriend.

“Scott--” Derek said.

“He's--” Stiles started to explain.

“An Alpha,” Derek murmured indicating Scott's eyes. They were red.

“Woah...”

Isaac gasped for breath, shooting up on the table, jerking Scott forward as he crumpled into himself. “Oh God... Oh _God._ ”

“He's in pain,” Derek said, “Isaac... Scott...”

He made move for them but Stiles threw his arm out and stopped him. Scott would not let go. And he would not scream. He was determined to take on the pain. Stiles watched in an awed admiration. That was definitely an Alpha thing to do, he supposed.

“Scott, let _go_ ,” Stiles begged.

Isaac collapsed back onto the table. Scott let go. “AGH SON OF A BITCH!” He shook his hand as the pain swirled up his arm and vanished. Then he was right back to concerned. “Isaac?”

Isaac rolled his eyes over to Scott and he smiled weakly. “That... that was probably the coolest thing you've ever done...” he breathed.

Scott looked like he wanted to cry he was so happy. “Hey, only so far.”

Derek leaned into the wall. “Please stop almost dying. It's exhausting.”

“Hey Pot, have you met Kettle?” Stiles snarked. “You're currently only standing due to the aid of a wall.”

“I... am going to sit down,” Scott said, looking a little drunk and tired, flopping into a chair.

“Almost dying is better than dying at least,” Erica said, hopping up and wrapping her arms around Isaac, not caring that the black blood on his skin was staining her clothes. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

He hugged back. “Glad to be here.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family

Chapter Nineteen

“Word of advice to the man who's always been a werewolf? This is what a hangover feels like.” Isaac rubbed his temples.

Derek slid his sunglasses on, hanging lazily over Stiles's shoulder. “I do not envy humans.”

“Oh stop being pansies. You're both lucky to be alive right now,” Stiles scolded, watching Isaac curl into his knees on the bench.

“I wish I was _deaaaaad._ ” Isaac whined.

“Too soon?” Scott scoffed, shoving Isaac in the shoulder. “Come on. We can go to my house. You guys can rest and get fluids and watch TV. And maybe we can make greasy food?”

“I don't think that will help them,” Stiles said.

“No food. Never food,” Derek grunted, sluggishly making his way out the door. Both he and Isaac cringed at the sun. “Fuck morning.”

“More like afternoon.”

“ _Whatever._ Fuck the sunshine.”

“The werewolf has become a vampire. Sit.” Stiles opened the door to the Camaro and shoved Derek into the passenger seat.

“Woah woah woah. You're not driving.”

“How else am I getting your car to Scott's house?”

“I don't care. You're not driving the Camaro.”

“I'll drive,” Erica volunteered.

“And you are _definitely_ not driving.”

“Just give me your keys, Derek? I haven't slept in two days. I'd really just like to get us to Scott's.”

“What about your Jeep, hm? And I don't think telling me you're sleep deprived is helping your case.”

“See, their makeup sex will probably be awesome,” Erica joked, whispering to Boyd even though she was definitely perfectly aware she could be heard.

“Scott's driving my Jeep.”

Derek shook his head. “You're not driving the Camaro. Boyd. Boyd can drive.”

“ _Boyd?_ What? I'm--” Stiles dropped his voice. “I'm your boyfriend and you won't let me drive my car.”

Derek leaned in, arguing in hushed tone. “Sleeping with me has nothing to do with your driving record.”

“Okay, most of the bad things that have happened to my car have been because of you.” Stiles paused. “ _Most_ of them. Okay, maybe I did back over a whole row of tiki torches once. And maybe I _did_ put a tire on wrong and it went flying off and down the interstate. But everything else was all you, man. All you and your crazy uncle.”

Derek stared at him through his sunglasses, definitely looking like his patience was running thin, his eyes weak from fighting the poison.

“You know what, fine. Boyd?”

Derek leaned back in the seat, looking victorious as Boyd circled the car, pushing the seat forward so Stiles and Erica could pile in the back seat. Derek handed off the keys as soon as Stiles and Erica were buckled in.

“I could have just taken them from your pocket, you know,” Stiles said.

“Don't start anything you can't finish.”

Erica cackled.

…

Ms. McCall was not a typical homemaker, but she actually seemed a little bit happy to house the werewolf pack for a couple of days. It was a full house; that was for sure.

“Scott, do we want to order pizza for everyone or Chinese?”

“Mom, can we afford that?”

“I got it,” Stiles said, digging in his wallet for some cash. “Let's get pizza.”

Derek and Isaac were asleep on the couch, using each other to prop themselves up, snoring. They both still had sunglasses on.

“ _Weekend at Bernie's_ , am I right?” Stiles joked, smiling at them.

Scott was counting the money. “Ooh, can we get chicken wings?”

“I'm not made of money, Scott.”

“I have money.”

“Dude, let's have a feast.” Erica fished some money out of her pocket and smacked some bills into Scott's hand. “Order up!”

“They can't be comfortable like that,” Ms. McCall was murmuring, looking over Derek and Isaac. “Are you sure you don't want to just wake them and send them upstairs?”

“They're fine.”

“Chicken wings!” Scott was stoked. He was a completely different person with his friends in better health. Stiles thought for a minute that Faye would be the death of Scott too. He was out of it for quite a while after taking on Isaac's pain of recovery, but Stiles couldn't help but feel proud of his best friend. Talk about heroics. He earned the chicken wings at least.

“I got some cash too,” Boyd sighed, digging in his boot for a few bucks. Boyd was stingy with his money, Stiles knew, but he also knew that Boyd didn't like to look like an asshole. “Here.”

“Stiles, go fish some money out of Derek's pocket.”

“Yeah, that's a wonderful idea. When he sinks his claws into my throat, you're more than welcome to tell him it was your idea.”

“What kind of pizza should I get?” Scott asked, opening his laptop on the kitchen counter and scrolling down menu options.

“Cheese. With extra extra extra cheese. Like triple cheese,” Stiles said. “And garlic sauce. Lots of garlic sauce.”

“Stiles, how did you not spend every minute of your childhood constipated?”

“Who says I didn't, Scott? Who says?”

“I want Meat Lover's,” Erica said, winking at Boyd. “You know I love meat.”

“Regular carnivore, Erica.” Boyd rolled his eyes, amused. “I'll be happy to share.”

“Okay...” Scott looked beyond embarrassed, putting in the order. “I definitely want Hawaiian.”

“Seriously, Scott? That shit is disgusting.”

“Don't judge me. I get my own pizza all to myself. And chicken wings.”

“Hey.” Erica knocked Isaac and Derek's heads together and they both yelled, gripping their aching skulls. “What kind of pizza do you dipheads want?”

“Erica, I am the Alpha. Don't think for a second that I'll allow you to-”

“Pizza, Derek.”

“Jeez, I don't know. Pepperoni? Does anyone eat normal pizza anymore?”

“I want Hawaiian. And a barbecue chicken pizza too.” Isaac said, hanging over the back of the couch.

“Two pizzas?”

“I'm hungry.”

“See, Stiles? People eat Hawaiian pizza.” Scott stuck his tongue out as his friend.

“Oh buy your stupid wings.”

“We should have beer too. Pizza goes great with beer. Derek, go buy us beer,” Isaac said, nudging Derek with his hand.

“Uh. No.”

“Whyyyy? We can't even get drunk.”

“I'm not supplying alcohol to minors.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “I've got two cheese pizzas, one with extra, extra, extra cheese; two Hawaiian pizzas, two Meatlover's pizzas, one barbecue chicken, one pepperoni, and two orders of chicken wings. Anything else?”

“Bread-sticks! Bread-sticks! Bread-sticks!” Isaac chanted, downright merry, still in his sunglasses. Stiles wondered for a minute if he took off the sunglasses the sun might send Isaac back to the floor.

“Don't forget my garlic sauce,” he said instead.

“Okay. Breadsticks. Garlic sauce. Mom?”

“I think I can find plenty of food in that massive amount you're ordering. Scott, where are we going to put the leftovers?”

“Mom, there are five growing boys here. And Erica, who can out-eat all of us. There won't be leftovers.”

“Isaac, how do you have any kind of energy?” Derek griped. “You almost _died._ ”

“Derek,” Isaac flopped down on the couch, looking at him, completely serious. “Pizza and I have a _very_ special relationship.”

Stiles sputtered, collapsing into laughter. “I hope you're not fucking it.”

“No, Stiles. God. Don't ruin my fun.”

“It's so loud in here,” Derek grumbled.

“It's louder than it's been in a long time, I'll admit,” Ms. McCall said. “Can I get you two anything? You've had a rough couple of days.”

“I'm fine, thanks,” Derek said, accepting her offer with kindness. He shoved Isaac over on the couch. “He's fine too.”

She chuckled. “Okay then. Get some two-liters, Scott.”

“I got it. I got it. I hope we have enough money.”

“We should.”

“Okay. It'll probably take a little while. That's a lot of food.” Scott finished ordering and closed his laptop.

“I'm starving. Can't wait.” Erica settled into an armchair, crossing her legs. “What happened to Peter?”

“Who knows? He'll turn up again, I'm sure,” Derek sighed, leaning on his hand.

“How's your head?” Stiles asked.

“Better. Still feel like I got hit by a bus, but my head isn't hurting anymore.” He slid his sunglasses off his face and tossed them on a table. He hesitated for a second, like he heard something, but then shook it off.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“Nothing. Werewolf ears. I think I heard the neighbors. They're probably bitching because they hear us.” He changed the subject, laughing it off. “So we're celebrating being alive with a pizza party, hm?”

“That is a wonderful way to celebrate. Look at how happy Isaac is. He's practically wagging his tail.”

“Well, I'm pretty happy about that.” Derek settled into the couch cushions. Stiles slid in next to him, lacing his fingers through Derek's.

“Me too.”

…

Pizza had been followed by a video game tournament. Derek was viciously competitive. Stiles tried to cheat multiple times by knocking the controller out of his hand, so Derek had returned the favor by letting him get close to the lead and then blowing in his ear, fucking up his senses. Erica bested the entire group, bragging about her strategies and skills.

“Hey, I had a lot of making up to do after becoming a werewolf. Being epileptic sucked. Couldn't ever game.”

Scott stretched, deciding that he'd had enough excitement for one day. Erica and Boyd were curled up in an armchair, looking perfectly comfortable, snoozing. Scott had offered them the guest room, but Erica had scoffed at it. “What's wrong with Boyd's lap?” she'd said. “It's perfectly comfortable to me.” Derek and Stiles were sprawled on the couch bed. Stiles still had a game controller wrapped around his ankle and his chin rested on Derek's chest. Other than that they were an amazing display of limbs all over the mattress.

Isaac wandered out of the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his neck. “Man. Can't believe I'm still tired. I feel like I lost days to sleep.”

“That's because you did,” Scott said, smiling.

“Hey, um. About that.”

“What's up?”

Isaac looked down at the floor. “Listen... I know I've had a bit of an attitude lately. But... you saved my life. I know I wouldn't have made it through that treatment without you, and... I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am.”

“Hey. You're my friend, Isaac. And my pack. I wasn't about to let anything happen to you. Not if I could do anything to help.”

“I know. You're... you're a really good guy, Scott. Kinda hopeless sometimes. But good.”

“Thanks,” Scott said. “You want the guest room? Big comfy bed. All for you.”

Isaac blushed. “That... that sounds great.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Scott turned to head up the stairs. “It's right up here--”

“Scott?”

He turned right into Isaac hugging him. They stood there for a long time. Scott patted his back. He could feel the tension in Isaac's muscles, his struggle to not cry. He hugged back tightly.

“I'm glad you're okay, Isaac.”

Isaac pulled away, sniffing. “Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay... I'm okay.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How has this gotten to 20 chapters idgi

Chapter Twenty

Weeks passed. Everyone carried on as normal.

Nothing happened.

Seriously. Nothing.

Stiles was a bit of a nervous wreck over it. It was like an extended calm before the storm. Scott, on the other hand, was the chillest person alive, and it was annoying. He was passing his classes, doing all his homework, all that stuff. And Stiles had the sneaking suspicion that he and Allison were fucking around, because they were both bubbly around each other again. Isaac seemed pretty wise to it too, and he was definitely bitchy about it.

Derek wasn't a ray of sunshine either. Stiles wasn't sure what was bothering him, because Derek didn't like to use _words_ unfortunately. Most of the time, anything Stiles said or did resulted in argument with Derek and it was a pain in the ass. He scribbled in his notebook with a sigh.

“Hey Lydia. Anything new on the information parade?”

“I've got a few things planned.” She held up her notebook. “Do you like this dress? I designed it.”

Stiles shrugged. “It's nice.”

“Please. It's spectacular.” She furrowed her brows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I don't remember Beacon Hills ever being a paradise.”

“Don't be so mopey. Homecoming's coming up next week.”

Not really a reason to cheer up. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Eh. I probably won't go.”

“Why?”

“Because if Derek and I are still together by Homecoming, I seriously doubt he'll want to go.”

“Woah. That bad?”

Stiles hesitated, trying to find a way to explain it. “Have you ever walked into a room and just immediately knew someone wanted to kick your ass?”

Lydia made a face. “Yikes.”

She went back to her doodles. Stiles frowned at her. _It must be awesome to be so smart you don't have to pay attention. Wait, what are we talking about?_ Stiles looked up at the teacher, completely lost on the lecture.

By the time he got home, he felt aggression itching the back of his spine, stiffness in his shoulders and a knot in his chest. He nodded hello to his dad, going straight up the stairs, hoping he could get some of the irritation out at his MMORPG. Or maybe he'd just go to sleep. He didn't know.

He opened the door and there was Derek.

“Hey,” he said blandly.

“Hey,” Derek repeated.

“So what's your beef with me today, Hale? Hm? Are you some sort of masochist? Here to get your fill of my annoyance until you beat my skull in?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Are you implying that I hit you? Because that's bullshit.”

“I don't get it, Derek,” Stiles huffed, throwing his stuff on the bed. “I don't get it. Things were fine. Things were great. And then the past few weeks you've been a complete dick. I'm sick of it! All we do is argue. That's it.”

Derek tensed, casting his eyes away, his lips thinning as his jaw tightened.

“See? _See?_ That's always the start of it. You're not telling me something. You'd rather fight with me than talk to me.”

“Yeah, well you know how I am, Stiles. This isn't anything _new,_ ” Derek seethed, clenching his fists, gearing up for another go.

“No. NO! Stop it! Fucking stop it right now, okay?!” Stiles held up his hands. “I'm not fucking having this fight with you _again._ I'm really fucking tired and I just want to go to sleep. So why don't you just... I dunno. Leave. Just leave.”

“You want me to leave.”

“Yes, actually, I do. Go find an attitude adjuster. Something. Better yet, go fuck yourself. And I mean that literally, because this?” He indicated the two of them. “This is not working right now, and if you're not going to tell me why, I sure as hell am not in the mood to play detective and figure it out.”

A million emotions crossed Derek's face in a matter of seconds, then disappeared into a stony facade. “Stiles-”

“Look! I--” Stiles swallowed. “A few weeks ago I watched you almost _die._ I don't know if that has something to do with this or what, but that is all I see in my mind whenever I think for a second about breaking up with you.”

“Breaking up with me...” Derek echoed, his voice suddenly quiet.

“I don't know why I can't do it, honestly. I feel like maybe that's what you want me to do. Is it? You've been pushing me away.” Stiles shoved Derek. “Why?! _WHY,_ Derek?!”

Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders, and he could feel him shaking against his body. “I haven't slept in two weeks.”

“What?”

Derek let him go, running his hands down his face. “I'm not bullshitting you. I'm fucking exhausted, but I _can't. Fucking. Sleep._ ”

“Why?” Stiles rage started cooling into concern, heavy in his stomach.

“I-- I don't know,” Derek stammered, dropping down to Stiles's bed. “I just can't. A-and some days I'm just... so... fucking _angry._ I can't seem to get a handle on it. I don't know what's going on. The full moon isn't for another week. I don't know. I don't know.”

“Maybe it's a side effect of the anti-toxin.”

“That shit's been out of my blood for weeks, Stiles. For fuck's sake don't be so stupid.”

Stiles swallowed, the anger in him spiking again. “I'm not stupid.”

Derek huffed. “I know that. I know that.”

“So you're tired. What's new? You're a werewolf. Aren't you more of a night-dweller anyway?”

“I still need to _sleep_ , Stiles!”

“Well I don't know how to help you! You're not really giving me anything to work with. What is it? Nightmares? Squeaky pipe? Annoying bird? I don't know what to do for you, Derek! What do you want for me to do?!”

Derek pulled Stiles close, burying his face in his stomach. “I think I'm hearing things...” he whispered.

Stiles stood still, not quite ready to back down, even with Derek pulling the vulnerability out. He'd been a statue all week, and Stiles didn't appreciate that he had to threaten to break up with him to get him to say anything.

“Hearing things?” he echoed.

Derek pulled away, looking a little frantic and a lot strung out. “Voices. Whispers. I hear them every time I lay down. They just keep getting worse. A-and I dream now... I dream awful things. And I wake up to catch myself doing them. I'm _sleepwalking._ I can't sleep with that on me. It's too irresponsible.”

Stiles breathed. “Derek... what did you do?”

Derek took a shuddery breath. “Two nights ago, Peter said I attacked him. He still had scratches healing on him. I clawed him up pretty bad and threw him through the window in my loft.... I don't remember doing that. I dreamed... I dreamed that I was fighting. But not him.” He shook his head. “And last night?... I think I might have killed someone.”

“What?!”

Derek closed his eyes. “I woke up with blood on my hands. All over my shirt. I saw online this morning that someone was killed last night. They said it looked like he'd been mauled by an animal.... It was me, Stiles. I know it was me. That guy had a _family._ He had _kids._ ”

“Woah, Derek. Calm down. You don't know for sure,” Stiles said, putting his hands on Derek's shoulders because, yeah, he was clearly freaking out. It reminded him a lot of Scott when he'd first been bitten. Derek even looked younger, like a terrified child. Like Scott had. “What have you been dreaming?”

“Those are the worst part.” Derek looked like he was shattering, just coming apart at the seams. “It's you, Stiles. It's always you or Scott or any of the pack that I'm trying to kill... I wake up and I always think I've got your blood on my hands, and-- I can't deal with that. I cannot be responsible for that--”

“Why didn't you just tell me?”

“You think I want to tell you that my subconscious wants to murder you? Rip your heart out of your chest?!” He stood up, full of furious energy, trying to mask his fear. “So yeah, you know what? I have been pushing you the fuck away. Because I don't want to kill you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Well... I know how you _are_ , Derek. That's not anything new. You said it yourself. I'm well aware of what I signed up for.” He took a breath. “Have you talked to Deaton about this? Peter? Anyone?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just... can't. I keep thinking it's going to go away, but it just gets worse.”

“These whispers you're hearing. What are they saying?”

“I don't know that either. I can't make them out.”

“Sure it's not just a result of your insomnia?”

Derek shrugged, a little pathetically, looking close to tears. “I don't know anything.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, trying to be as calm as possible. “Listen. You had a really bad experience. You went Alpha. You lost control. You nearly died. One of your pack nearly died. You're... kind of dealing with a lot right now. You're stressed out.”

“No shit!” Derek's eyes sparked red and his fangs popped.

“Woah? Woah,” Stiles coaxed Derek back down. “Come here, okay? Come here.”

He sat on the bed and Derek sank down next to him, looking heavier than he ever had. He careened into Stiles's shoulder, leaning on him, closing his eyes like he was in pain. Stiles slid an arm around him, burying his nose in his hair.

“It's gonna be okay.”

“I'm sorry I've been such an asshole.”

“It's okay. Glad to see you using words.” Stiles pet at the nape of Derek's neck.

Derek held Stiles's hand with both of his own. “I'm so tired...” he slurred.

“Just sleep, Derek.”

Stiles laid back and Derek curled into him, listening to his heartbeat. He fell asleep immediately.

Stiles didn't though. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered what Derek was capable of. And he would be lying if he didn't keep a sharp eye on Derek's claws.

…

Derek was still a pissy little wolf, even after getting some rest. But he showed up every night for three nights just to curl up with Stiles and sleep. And it usually started with an argument over something stupid.

Angry sex was pretty awesome though.

“How am I going to ever take my shirt off again, Derek?” Stiles groaned, looking at his back in the mirror. Eight, long, red claw marks stood out in stark difference to the pale skin on Stiles's back.

Derek dabbed alcohol on a cotton ball, dabbing at them. “So I got a little carried away.”

“A _little?_ ”

“I'm disinfecting them. What do you want?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, not in the mood to fight. “Hey. Stop being a dick.” He turned Derek's head with his hand and kissed him. “I'm not mad, okay? Just take it easy next time.”

“You were mad when I did it,” Derek muttered.

“I'd say you were madder.” Stiles chuckled. “And just a casual reminder that the only rest you've gotten this week has been with me.”

“I know,” Derek sighed.

“Are you still hearing the whispers?”

Derek didn't answer. He just kept dabbing at the scratches.

Stiles fidgeted on the bathroom counter, wiggling his toes. “Um...”

“What?”

“I was wondering... if you wanted to go to Homecoming with me? It's on Friday. I mean, you're perfectly welcome to say no--”

“Sure.”

“What?”

“Sure. If it's important to you, of course I will.”

Stiles's smile came so fast it actually hurt. “Really?”

Derek sighed, looking weary but sweet. “Yes, really. You're all done.” He threw the cotton in the trash. “Take it easy today at school.”

Stiles grinned, hopping down and grabbing his shirt off the towel rack where he'd thrown it. “I'll manage. And dress nice on Friday. It is a formal.”

“So. What? Shorts?”

“Ha _ha._ ” Stiles rolled his eyes, tugging his shirt over his head. “Dress nice. But feel free to wear something sexy underneath.”

“Garters? Corset?”

“Stop. Stop. You're not funny.”

“You're laughing.”

“I'm humoring you.”

“Liar.” Derek grabbed Stiles by sliding his arm around his torso, spinning him around and kissing him gruffly.

“I have to go to school now.” He chuckled, kissing his cheek. “I'll see you later.”

As he headed for the stairs, he glanced back at Derek. Derek had leaned against the doorway, his head bowed, like he was listening to something.

Stiles frowned.

…

“Dad, I'm leaving for school,” Allison said, heading for the front door.

She paused, listening for a response. Nothing.

“Dad?”

The house was too quiet for her taste. Normally her dad would be making breakfast or at least sipping a cup of coffee. But the kitchen was dark, untouched. Unusual.

Allison dropped her bag and opened the hall closet, pulling out a crossbow and heading back up the stairs, holding it at the ready. She quietly crept down the hallway to her dad's room. “Dad?”

She kicked open the door and aimed.

Empty.

Something wasn't right. She pulled out her phone and dialed her father's number.

She could hear it ringing, buzzing on the floor by the window. She stepped over to it and picked it up, running a finger along the edge of it.

“Blood...” she whispered.

She heard movement behind her and whirled, shooting an arrow directly at the source. It stuck in the wall. Allison jumped, feeling something wind around her ankle. A vine had crept across the floor. She reached for her knife to slice it off, but thorns stuck into her calf and suddenly she was so... so... sleepy.

The world tilted on its axis and she stumbled, drunken, dropping her crossbow. The floor came up to meet her fast and her vision swam, her fingers twitching. She rolled her eyes upward, looking herself in the face.

She blinked, trying to clear her hazy head, because she knew she wasn't looking in a mirror. Lydia... Lydia had said they were fighting a shapeshifter....

“Wh---whoooo,” she slurred.

“Well who does it look like? I'm you, stupid.”

Allison's vision blacked out.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dance, Dance, We're falling apart to half time.

 Chapter Twenty-One

“Zip me,” Lydia commanded.

Allison chuckled, hopping off the bed and sliding it up her back. “This thing's gorgeous, Lydia. Where'd you find it?”

“I had it made. It's very special, you know.” She stood in front of the mirror, preening.

It had come out marvelously, bright yellow with a glittery overlay, cinched at the waist with a black belt. The skirt was full of ruffles, full and bouncy. She paired it with a pair of black pumps and had curled her hair just so around her face.

“The sweetheart neckline makes my boobs look amazing, no?” She smirked at Allison.

“Yeah, it definitely does.”

Allison was wearing red. And yeah, her dress was okay by Lydia's standards, but not the most impressive outfit in the world. It was high cut to her neck, but dipped low in the back, clinging to her body in all the right places. Scott McCall could eat his heart out.

“You're cool going stag?”

Lydia scoffed. “Please. People go alone, they leave together. I'm there to see prospects. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. What about Scott? You've been avoiding him the past couple of days. Afraid he was gonna ask you?”

“Maybe,” Allison said, sliding red rouge on her lips.

“I wish you two would just figure it out already. One second you're doing each other, the next the Great Wall of China's between you. I don't get it. It's like you two become different people.”

Allison's mouth quirked a little. “I guess that's an accurate description.”

…

“Ugh.”

“What?” Derek looked like he was ready to be offended.

“Nothing,” Stiles groaned. “Just. Stop looking good in everything. You're ruing it for the rest of us.”

“Oh stop it, Stiles. You look nice.” Derek smiled at him, straightening Stiles's bow tie.

“I look like the Six Flags guy.” Stiles was wearing a black blazer and red jeans with a white shirt and red bowtie. Derek thought it was nice. “You look like a fucking GQ model with your long black tie and James Bond suit.”

“You do not look like the Six Flags guy... Even though you probably dance like him.”

“Hey! Hey.” Stiles considered it. “You're actually probably not far off from that.”

“I didn't think I was.”

“Oh my God, _women_ ,” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “Let's _go already._ ”

Her dress was black leather. Of course it was.

Scott was moping out by the car with Isaac when Stiles and Erica and their respective dates made their way out.

“Hey, man, don't worry about her. Just go out with us and have fun. I am going to be personally responsible for making sure you have a good time tonight,” Issac said, trying to be encouraging. His light blue tie was already askew like he'd been tugging on it.

Scott sighed. “I just don't know why she's been avoiding me.”

Isaac made a face like he'd eaten something sour. “I-- don't know. But come on, Scott. Cheer up.”

“Yes, Scott, stop being such a sourwolf,” Derek said, smirking at Stiles.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Can we just go?” He flopped into the back seat of Stiles's Jeep, muttering something about _stupid couples._ Isaac shrugged a little sympathetically at Stiles and crawled in after Scott.

“You're going to let Boyd drive your Camaro again?”

“He beat me at Blackjack. Fair's fair,” Derek said, tossing him the keys.

“What?”

“We played Blackjack to figure out who got my car and who got yours.”

Stiles slumped. “Really.”

Derek gestured to the Camaro, clearing his throat.  
“Good point.”

“How bad are you at Blackjack?” Erica asked, sliding her hand over Boyd's torso on the way to the passenger seat.

“Dumb luck,” Derek griped.

“Oh no, Derek. Dumb skill,” Boyd joked, sliding into the front seat of the Camaro and offering a taunting little wave.

Derek snorted. “Give me your keys.”

“Oh no. See, with your _driving record_ , I think I'll drive,” Stiles snarked. Derek glared him down all the way to the passenger seat.

…

“I've been meaning to ask,” Scott said as they made their trek up to the school, Isaac's arm casually slung over his shoulder. “How'd your dad take the whole werewolves thing?”

“You know, he took it really well?” Stiles was a bit impressed with it, actually. “I think it's cause of your mom. She handled the scary stuff. I just had to add in details. I don't know if he's super stoked that I'm dating one, but he'll live.”

“I'm a little alarmed at how well everyone keeps taking this stuff,” Isaac mused. “Danny told me Jackson had filled him in on a few things but he was so chill about the whole thing. I guess when your best friend becomes a scary lizard-thing, you start asking questions.”

“What about Coach?” Scott asked.

“Doesn't remember a thing. His first question when he woke up in the hospital was whether or not we won. Game is postponed til who knows when? The field's pretty torn up.”

Derek grimaced, swallowing.

“Hey, you okay?” Erica was the first one to notice.

“Yeah,” Derek replied absently. “This suit's just itchy.”

“Ugh, what is it with you boys being so used to being naked?”

Derek smirked. “What? Most people I think would prefer me naked.”

“We can't all be a shining male specimen,” Stiles joked.

“Don't complain. You're the one that wants it most of all.”

“Ah _aaaaa_!” Erica cackled as they pushed the doors open to the gym. “ _HE WANTS THE D!_ ”

The music hit like a slap to the face, deep bass pounding in the floor like the heartbeat of a wild beast. Lights flashed over glowing purple bodies of dancing teenagers, dressed to the nines and sliding around each other with ease.

“You know..?” Derek mused. “I've actually never been to one of these.”

“They're a little overrated, not gonna lie,” Scott said. Isaac's arm was still warm around his shoulders. “But fun. I wonder if they spiked the punch yet?”

“Well, Danny's here, so yes?” Erica laughed. “Come on, Boyd. Let's hit the dance floor. Later losers.” She grabbed Boyd's hand and they disappeared into the crowd.

“Damn, I hate that I'm a werewolf right now. I'd really like to be wasted,” Scott sighed.

“I'd like you to be wasted too,” Isaac replied good-naturedly. “Come on. Come dance with me. Forget about Allison.”

“You wanna dance?” Stiles asked, turning away from Scott, rolling his eyes. “Before Isaac jumps all over Scott and makes this uncomfortable?”

“Mm, I think it might be interesting. Too bad Scott's still hung up on Allison.... Speaking of which.” He pointed to the door.

In walked Allison and Lydia, looking fucking _amazing_ , because that was kind of how Lydia made any entrance.

“It's like those eighties movies,” Stiles whispered. “Where everything slows down and the music changes and guys fall all over themselves?”

“Well, in that case.” Derek slid his hand massively slow down the curve of Stiles's back, giving a nice squeeze to his ass and letting go.

“Cruel,” Stiles huffed.

“What? It's a dance. You're my boyfriend. I thought I was supposed to get a little handsy.”

“I... I am absolutely okay with that.” Stiles grabbed Derek by the wrist and pulled him in close, and they danced. Stiles wasn't quite as bad as he said, but Derek knew he could guide him. He put his hands on Stiles's hips and swayed with him, the fast beat thumping in his ears, the movement freeing.

…

“Fuck.”

Scott was swaying, sitting on the bleachers with Isaac, both of them pretending to be drunk since they definitely weren't capable of it anymore. Danny's mouth was hanging open.

“What?”

“Stiles got _that?_ _Stiles Stilinski._ ”

Isaac grinned. “He's got some magical charm under all that sarcasm, I guess. Also, Derek's personality sucks. He's actually a complete dick.”

“Yeah, but who cares when you get to look at _that_ every day?” Danny sipped at his punch, shaking his head but impressed. “Didn't know he had it in him. They're getting it.”

“At least someone is,” Scott grumbled.

“Scott, please stop being the worst guy ever,” Isaac groaned. “You are harshing my buzz.”

“You have no buzz, Isaac. You can't get drunk.”

“See? Look at him, Danny. Talk some sense into him, Danny.”

“Scott. Try to have fun. Isaac is fun. I'm fun.” Danny paused, eying Derek. “And you're sure their not cousins?”

“What? No. What gave you that idea?”

“He just... looks a lot like Stiles's cousin. Unless he was lying-- Oh my God have they been fucking _that long?!_ ”

“Uhh, no! I would've known about that.” Scott crossed his arms.

“You sure?”

“Sure I'm sure.”

Scott was starting to relent on his bad mood, his shoulders relaxing, eyebrows arching in interest.

“Hi Scott.”

“Allison!”

“Damn it,” Isaac muttered. “I mean. Hi! Allison. What. A. Surprise. Seeing you here. I mean.”

Danny started snickering and Isaac pounced for him to shut him up.

“I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. Can we talk?”

“Yeah! I mean. Sure. Yeah. It's cool.” Scott gave her a sad little smile. “Can we dance too?”

She smiled, holding out her hand for him to take. Lydia slid by, patting Scott on the shoulder on the way to Isaac and Danny.

“I'm going to dance with _everyone_ tonight. You two first.”

Scott glanced at the golden glitter on the shoulder of his suit and smacked at it, trying to dust it off, but it stuck on pretty well. He rolled his eyes.

“Sorry. Am I pulling you away from something important?”

Scott scoffed. “No. Not for you, Allison. You know that.”

She tangled her arms around his neck and they swayed, even though the music was fast and pulsing and haywire. His world slowed down around her, like it always did. And when she smiled...

Scott sighed. “I know we agreed to break up. And I'm sorry about the other night. I just... I had to see you--”

“Shhh,” Allison shushed, leaning into him. “I know. It's okay, Scott.” She sighed, softly, sweetly, close to his lips. “How are you doing with the full moon?”

“I'm okay. I can control it.”

“Glad to see Isaac and Derek are okay. How'd you do it?”

“Deaton and Lydia are geniuses.” Scott smiled. “But uh... didn't you have something to talk to me about?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “It'll be midnight soon.... It can wait.”

…

“You're a better dancer than you give yourself credit for.”

“Don't lie to me, Hale.”

“No, really!” Derek laughed. “You're all squirmy. It's... oddly alluring.”

“Only because you've seen me naked.” Stiles smirked, grinding up against Derek enough that Derek grunted, visibly uncomfortable. Then he flinched. “Derek?”

“Sorry.” Derek pulled at his tie. “This thing is driving me nuts.”

“Really? You've gone that long without a tie?” Stiles gave him a dubious look. “Can't handle it for an hour?”

“Give me a break, Stiles. And I'm pretty sure it's been longer than that. It's getting close to midnight.”

“Nah, it's fine. I actually like that whole... grungy, disheveled thing.”

Derek winced again, touching at his neck. “Sorry... uh. Can we sit down?”

Stiles slackened with concern, his arms still wrapped around Derek's torso. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know.”

Lydia slid through. “Mind if I break in?” She clapped an arm on Derek's, leaving a glittery residue on his sleeve, then slid her arms around Stiles's neck. “I saved you for last.”

“Go ahead,” Derek said. “I'll be fine.”

He scratched at his neck, making his way to the bleachers to sit down.

“You okay?” Erica was sitting down too, rubbing her shoeless feet, her heels sitting next to her.

“Yeah,” Derek replied gruffly.

“Don't worry. He may have had a crush on her, but Lydia's not about to steal your boyfriend.”

“I didn't really think about that. Now I am. Thank you for that.”

“You are all attitude, babe.”

“Where's Boyd?”

“Getting punch for me. Which I guess is better than getting _punched_ for me, but both are honorable boyfriend traits.”

Derek recoiled once more, looking like he'd been scalded. “Sorry,” he breathed, getting up and heading for a bathroom. Erica went running behind him, carrying her shoes in her hand.

“Hey, hey! What's going on?”

“I don't know. Agh! Why is it so fucking loud in here? I can't concentrate!”

“The music?”

“No, the screaming!”

“Screaming?” Erica echoed, looking confused, following Derek into the mens' room without a thought. “Derek, no one's screaming. Is it better in here?”

“No. _No._ It's worse.” Derek toppled over, just barely catching himself on one of the sinks, his breath hitching. “God... _God damn it._ ” He ripped his tie off and pulled at his shirt, popping the top two buttons.

He looked in the mirror, his eyes widening.

“Derek... what is that?” Erica murmured, fear washing over her features.

…

“Have you really danced with everyone?” Stiles asked, grinning at Lydia.

“Yep. Every person here. Even the chaperones. Even though they weren't super in to it. I at least got a handshake or a hug or something. So I'll take it.”

“They probably all think you're wasted.”

“Mm. I've had a few, but definitely completely functioning.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble. Why dance with everyone?”

She smirked. “Well I didn't get this design this dress to be ignored. I want everyone to know it.”

“And why did you save me for last?”

“It's almost midnight,” she said, pulling herself in close, leaning on Stiles's shoulder. “On the full moon. Why not shake things up a little bit?”

Stiles smiled into her hair.

“Besides,” Lydia said, sounding much more like herself. “Now that you're gay I don't feel threatened at the idea of you having a crush on me. Trust me, honey, our friendship is much easier without you pining after me.”

Stiles frowned. “Hey!” He pulled back to look her in the face, but his annoyance was gone in a flash when he saw her face.

She was smiling softly, but she looked like she was about to cry, her eyes large and watering.

“Lydia...”

“I... I've had a bad feeling for days...” she whispered. “And I have researched... and researched... and I don't think... I don't think it's enough. Something's _wrong._ ”

“It's gonna be okay,” Stiles said, though he wasn't sure he believed it. He was a little amazed to see Lydia break down so suddenly.

…

“Scott.” Erica interrupted his moment. He was not pleased.

“Erica? What?”

“You need to come with me.”

“This can't wait? I'm kinda _busy--_ ”

“ _SCOTT. Now._ ”

Scott looked at Allison, staring him down. And there was something... off... “I'm sorry. I'll... I'll be right back. I promise. And we'll talk. And we'll do whatever you want. I promise.”

He took off after Erica.

He could feel Allison's eyes on his back.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never Mind.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Scott was pissed, yeah. He'd finally gotten Allison back in his arms and everything was working out pretty fucking marvelously and then Erica, of all people, had to pull him away. It wasn't that Allison hated Erica, but the two of them hadn't necessarily had the greatest past with each other. And Scott got that. Erica had some issues. Allison did too. But pulling him away from his sort-of, very much missed, girlfriend? That sucked.

“This better be important.”

Erica kept a strong grip on his wrist, dragging him through people chatting and dancing and stumbling around drunk. The went all the way across the gym and into the mens' room, Erica telling a couple of guys that were heading for it to _fuck off_ , pushing through the door and slamming it shut behind them, locking it.

“Erica, what--”

She spun Scott around to see Derek hunched on the floor, breathing heavily, gripping his neck.

“Derek-”

“Get out,” he growled.

“Derek, let Scott see--”

“ _GET OUT!”_ Derek roared, eyes bright, aflame with the signs of the Alpha.

Scott stumbled backwards into the door, Erica falling against the wall next to him, terrified.

“His neck,” she stammered.

…

Fog machines went off, spewing smoke into the room, noxious and overwhelming. Stiles squinted his eyes, peering at Lydia through the mist as it got thicker, distorting his vision.

“What the hell?” He turned, trying to find familiar faces around, but all he could see was smoke. When he turned back, Lydia was even stricken from his view. “Lydia? I can't see anything.”

The music stopped, silence falling over the crowd of confused teenagers, muffled noises emanating from the group as a whole.

“Guys,” Isaac said, breaking through the smoke, clearly have no issues seeing. “What's going on?”

“I don't know. Someone open a window. Or a door. Something.”

“Good idea.” Isaac scanned the room. “Ooh. Problem.”

“What?”

“There are vines everywhere. They're blocking the exits!”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Faye. She's gotta be here... she's somewhere.”

“She's some _one_ ,” Lydia clarified, keeping a hand on Stiles's arm. “She could be any one of us...”

Isaac bared his claws, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. “Why fill the place with smoke if she can be disguised?”

“What if it's that Wolfsbane smoke she used at Warehouse 13?” Stiles gasped, covering his mouth.

“We'd be dead by now. Relax,” Isaac said.

“No, it could be,” Lydia said, eyes alight with realization. She whispered to herself. “It worked.”

The smoke started to settle around their ankles, dense and cold. Faces broke through, looking around, lost.

“Woah,” Boyd murmured from not too far away. “Guys, we gotta rip these things down.”

Vines had overtaken the room, slithering up the bleachers and twisting over doors and walls.

“It's like _Jumanji_ in here,” Stiles said, grimacing.

“Yeah, but look,” Isaac said, pointing to the floor.

The vines had completely engulfed the gymnasium, but they all stopped within feet of each person. Every guest stood on bare floor. Allison stood in the center of the room, and Stiles would not have noticed her had it not been for the expression on her face.

It sent chills down his spine. Her eyes looked deadened but angry... so... so... angry. And he followed her gaze to Lydia. It was almost like she could set Lydia ablaze. And when she walked, she walked with purpose, grabbing Lydia by the wrist so hard that it was bruising. Lydia struggled against the grip.

“Hey! Allison, what are you---” she froze, eyes wide with realization, fear gathering in the sharp lines of her shoulders.

“What did you _do_?!” Allison commanded, and her voice was harsh and raw in her throat. Dangerous. She squeezed Lydia's wrist so hard that she flinched.

“If you're going to threaten me, do it with your own face,” Lydia hissed, showing now fear. “Bitch.”

“Take your hands off her,” Stiles threatened.

Allison scoffed. “What are you going to do? Sic your boyfriend on me? I seriously doubt that.”

Stiles's heart sank and he whirled around, scanning the room for Derek. No sign of him.

“Where is he?!” Stiles commanded, ripping the girl away from Lydia, screaming at her, “ _WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?”_

“I think you should be more worried about what he's going to do to you.” Allison's eyes shifted to bright green as she lifted her hand, vines sprouting upwards. Lydia grabbed hold of it and it hissed, disintegrating in her palm.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” she seethed.

Faye was a mixture of shocked, horrified, and enraged. “You--” she hissed. Isaac stepped in front of her.

Faye's expression changed. “Fair enough. I don't have to have my plants.”

Her hand clamped on Stiles's throat. Stiles choked, her fingertips searing in her skin.

“Why don't you get your little werewolf friends to save you? Are they too afraid of revealing themselves? _Cowards_ are just willing to watch you die?”

“Speak for yourself,” Stiles gagged against her hand. “You prefer making Allison look bad?”

“You got the time, sweetheart?” she asked, smirking like it was a threat.

“It's midnight,” Isaac said, his voice shuddering a little. “Why?”

…

“Derek--” Scott stammered, dodging his claws, stumbling over Erica into a stall. He slammed the door to avoid another attack. “Why can't we get out the door?!” he yelped,hearing the scrape of claws against metal and the sick sound of Derek's heavy breathing.

“I don't know. It's stuck or something,” Erica said, her voice strained as she and Scott pushed on the door, trying to hold Derek back. “Why is he a nutcase?!”

“Those marks around his neck. I've seen 'em before.”

“What do they mean?”

“It means he's going to kill us.”

“I could have gathered that!” Erica screamed, the door bending and twisting in Derek's grip as he ripped it off the hinges. He roared at them with predator eyes, blinded. The red collar around his neck glowed.

“Scott, the vent!” Erica pointed upwards, just past Derek's head as they hovered against the wall on each side of the commode, hearts pounding.

Derek dove for them and they both ducked under him, clambering out of the tiny space. The commode exploded under the attack, water spewing from the broken pipe in the wall. Scott jumped, yanking the grate from the ceiling.

“Damn it, it's straight up for like two feet!”

“Give me a boost,” Erica said. “I'll pull you up.”

“You better be quick about it,” Scott said, folding his fingers so she could step up. Derek headed for them again, his claws scraping Scott's shoulder, drawing blood. Scott's eyes burned amber, then red, and he growled. “Derek, _STOP._ ”

Derek's eyes flashed for just a moment and he gripped at his neck. “I _can't._ ” He screamed out, his back arching. Scott jumped, reaching for Erica's hand, and she pulled him up into the air vent.

“He's under mind control,” Scott breathed. “Faye's put a spell on him.”

“What? When? How?”

“I don't know. But I _do_ know that's the same mark on her dog, Otrok. The werewolf girl?”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Scott started crawling, the metal cold under his hands, following Erica.

“He got you pretty good. You okay?”

“Blood's blood. I don't care about that right now. We gotta figure out how to get Derek back.”

“Stiles is not gonna be happy about this.” Erica turned a corner, making a frustrated noise. “I don't even know where the fuck we're going.”

“At least we're not being mauled to death.”

“Yeah, right now.” Erica paused. “What the fuck is that?!”

Scott peered over her shoulder to one of the vent-heads. Vines were growing through the spokes like the mouth of a diseased beast. He swallowed. “Is that Wolfsbane?”

“I think so. But I'm not staying in this vent.” Erica reached to pull the vine, but his hissed and withered just beyond her grip. “Woah.” She looked at her hand. “Oh my God. Lydia Martin, I could kiss you.”

“What?”

“The _glitter_ , Scott! It's killing the plants. No wonder she danced with everyone tonight! She's basically made every person in this building a repellant!”

“Damn, I could kiss her too,” Scott sighed, relieved.

“Haven't you?” Erica raised an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder.

Scott flushed, annoyed. “Once.”

“How was it?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Will you _go_ already?”

Erica chuckled. “Scott McCall, you dog.”

She pushed the vent through and clambered out into the hallway, barely dodging the lockers on her way down. Scott jumped down next to her.

“Come on. We gotta get back to the gym.”

…

“UGH!” Derek yelled, grabbing his skull, screaming voices unceasing in his head. He stumbled into the wall, fighting them with all his might, but _God it hurt._

_You will not fight me off, Derek Hale. You're mine now. Let go._

“No!” Derek growled. “No! STOP!”

_Your kind... so easily fooled by temptation. This isn't the first time you've let your dick ruin your life, is it?_

Derek felt tears prick in his eyes, slumping against the wall and sliding to the floor. His neck felt like it was on fire, twisting around his collarbones and burning down his spine. He remembered her false fingerprint, digging into the space between his collarbones, the spell placed with his lover's hand.

“Get out,” he whispered, his voice gravelly in his throat. “Get out of my head.”

_You don't think, do you? Selfish dog. You're too caught up in how things affect you to ever know how you affect others! And now you're mine._ I _get to be selfish._

And he could hear it, the sound of choking. _Stiles._ Stiles was gasping for breath, scrambling against her grip.

“Let him go,” Derek growled.

He could hear her chuckle. It vibrated across the surface of his brain, a ripple in his consciousness that filled his entire being.

_Oh no no, Derek. You don't make the decisions anymore. It's midnight. The clock strikes twelve._

Derek gasped, the pain ripping from his bones, like he was being pulled away from his body, watching it from afar, a ghost of a man. Derek reached for his own body, watching it rise slowly, he clambered for it, but he could not touch it. He couldn't get close. He could only watch himself move slowly to the door.

…

“Let him go, Faye,” Isaac threatened. “I'm not scared of people finding out.”

Stiles sputtered, trying to kick at her, but her fingertips were leaving more than just bruises. His eyes started to roll back.

“Oh, but you are. It's written all over your face.”

A bat cracked across her skull and she released Stiles, flying off to the left. Stiles gasped, gulping air and stumbling back into Isaac, holding his neck as it purpled and ached. Someone screamed, and the entire room was staring at Danny. Faye twitched, gathering herself on the ground. Where Danny had hit her appeared like a crack in her mask,

“Danny!” Isaac said, smiling. “Woah!”

“That's not Allison,” Danny said. “I'm sick of this girl fucking with my friends.”

“She's a magical creature, Danny. I wouldn't recommend you fighting her--” Boyd started.

“Humans can fight too. You'd be amazed at how strong _we_ can be when we band together. Wolves aren't the only creatures that rely on packs.” He tossed one of the bats to Stiles. “Play ball, Stilinski.”

Lydia looked revitalized, heading for the door. “Let's get these vines out of here. Issac, as soon as I get the vines away from the door, _get everyone out._ I have a feeling things are about to get violent.”

“Got it.”

…

Sheriff Stilinski sat at his desk, perusing reports, trying to concentrate, but he wasn't having much luck.

Knowing that his son was dating a werewolf was a rather hearty distraction.

Melissa had told him everything she knew, and Stiles had been moody for weeks after the attack, so he had decided not to push him on the subject. But he was worried, naturally. He didn't really know how Melissa handled it so well. He leaned against his hand, his eyelids starting to droop. It'd been a long day, and he was one of the only ones left at the station. Most were out on call or at home with their families. Stiles was at Homecoming. The phones starting ringing off the hook.

Of course they were.

But just as Sheriff Stilinski reached for the receiver, the door fell open with a clatter. His breath hitched, his hand still hovering over the phone.

“Mr. Argent!” He hopped up, scooting around the desk just in time to help the collapsing figure of the man, blood sliding over his fingers from lashes on Mr. Argent's skin. “What happened to you? Who did this to you?”

“My daughter... is missing,” he breathed, cringing at his wounds.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You have to _find her.”_

“You need to tell me who did this to you. _What_ did this to you?”

“I can't lose her,” he whimpered, slipping into unconsciousness.

A deputy came bolting into the room, freezing at the scene in front of him. “Oh my God.”

“Call an ambulance,” the Sheriff commanded.

“Yes sir. We just got a 911 call. Apparently something's going on at the high school gym.”

“Fantastic.” Stilinski sighed. “Stay with him. Make sure Melissa McCall is his nurse, okay? I'm going to the school.”

“Yes sir. But why?”

“Just do it.” He grabbed his jacket and raced out the door.

_Stiles,_ he thought, _I hope you have an explanation for what the hell is going on, because I am not keeping up._


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all falls apart.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

“Otrok!” Faye yelled.

Her enslaved werewolf came pounding from a place in the ceiling, bloodthirsty in the light of the full moon. Beneath the porcelain skin of Fayes' _Allison_ mask, her true self was starting to shine through. The skin beneath was pale white to the point of being gray with high cheekbones and deep set dark emerald eyes. As she stood, rage coloring her features, the skin cracked and chipped away from her, revealing her for how ugly she really was. Having Allison's face crumble away from her own made her outright hideous.

“Everybody _OUT!_ ” Isaac yelled.

Students piled out the door and Faye watched, seething. “I don't need any of them.”

“You couldn't hurt them if you wanted to,” Boyd said, smug. “Your plants have no effect and your one little werewolf pet? We can take her down easily. Give up, Faye. It's over.”

The rest of Allison's facade began to fall from her like dust, and she chuckled, low in her chest, her body trembling with it.

“I don't like that sound,” Stiles murmured to Danny, who looked about equally as nervous, white-knuckling his baseball bat.

“You _idiots_!” She cackled. “You really think I would waltz in here without some sort of plan? I'm not here for any of them or any of you.”

“Then what the hell are you here for?”

Scott and Erica broke through the door, out of breath. “Guys!” Scott started, bursting with fearful energy and the need to speak.

A roar rumbled through the floor, loud and low. Scott's mouth clamped shut, his eyes darting away from his friends... to Derek. Stiles followed his look.

Something wasn't right.

“There you are, sweetheart. I was wondering when you were finally going to make your entrance.” Faye ran a hand through her hair and it shifted from Allison's dark locks to a sort of green-brown ugly color. “Mm, now. Why don't you tell your little friends _hello?_ ”

There was a feral growl from Derek as he stepped forward, agonizingly slowly, like he was being pulled back by something.

“Derek?” Isaac spoke in uncertainty. “You okay? Say something.”

“Get away from him!” Scott screamed. “GUYS! _GET AWAY FROM HIM!_ ”

Faye smirked. “Her first.” She pointed lazily at Lydia.

Before anyone had a chance to react, Derek had his claws in Lydia's neck. She couldn't even scream. Her eyes went wide, wheezing, going slack at his hand. When he released her, she fell to the floor in a heap, crumpled and silent.

Stiles heart dropped. What...

What was Derek doing?

“ _Lydia!_ ” Danny screamed running for her. Isaac stopped him, holding him back until Danny was a complete mess, sobbing. “Oh my _GOD!_ ”

“Derek!” Boyd headed for him instead, claws readied. “What are you doing?!”

Derek didn't even blink, slashing Boyd's chest open, grabbing him by the arm, and throwing him into the bleachers. They twisted and groaned under his body. Erica gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Stiles took the opportunity to run for Lydia, picking up her withered body, holding her with shaking hands. Blood, bright red, was smeared from her jaw to her waist, her beautiful gold dress tainted. Memories of Peter attacking her flashed in Stiles's mind, and panic hit him, cold and nauseating, freezing him in his place, because _this?_ It wasn't supposed to happen. Not to her. Not by Derek. Derek wasn't like that. Derek was the type to lay his life down for others because he saw greatness in them. Derek was the one that tried his hardest to make sure everyone was safe. Derek was the one who lost people, not the one that took them from others. Lydia gurgled and Stiles pulled off his blazer, tightening it around the wounds in her neck. He could hear sirens wailing and for a second he wasn't sure if it was real or in his head.

“Otrok, Derek. Kill them and let's go.” Faye transformed into her form of choice, sandy brown-blonde hair and green eyes.

“Derek, no!” Stiles yelped.

Scott roared, taking stance in front of his friends, eyes blazing. And the face-of began. Stiles tried to focus on Lydia. He didn't want to watch them fight. He couldn't bring himself to believe anything that was happening before him.

“Hang on, Lydia. Hang on.”

Lydia gripped Stiles's shirt, pulling him close, her voice a ghost of what it once was. “S—stiles. Stop Derek.”

“What?”

“Hi---his anchor... is anger---- She--- controls-- wi—th anger.” Her eyes rolled closed and her hand dropped. Stiles could feel her pulse growing thready under his fingertips.

“No. _No! Someone help me!_ ”

Erica dropped down next to him, pressing her hand to Lydia's neck, grimacing as the pain raced up her arm. “She's losing blood too fast. This isn't going to help long.”

“Put pressure on her neck. But be careful. I have to keep her heart pumping.”

He started doing compressions on Lydia's chest, trying to keep her heart going while at the same time feeling like his was on the verge of shattering into pieces. He heard Scott yell as Derek tossed him around like a ragdoll, Isaac's wail when Otrok sunk her teeth into his skin, ravenous and thirsty for blood.

“Faye disappeared!” Stiles knew she wasn't gone. She was definitely around there somewhere.

Plants began engulfing the building, twisting around walls again, squeezing at the seams of it. The building lurched under the strain. Danny looked lost, dropping down next to them as well. “Let me... let me...” he whispered.

Stiles relented and Danny started CPR.

“Danny,” Stiles started.

“We can't tell Jackson about this, okay? Never. She's gonna be fine and we're not gonna tell Jackson.”

Stiles nodded, knowing that Danny wasn't about to listen to anything he said. He stood, taking in the gym for the first time, the destruction taking place, his friends getting pummeled. He picked up the bat, dragging it as he approached the action, feeling like he was going numb. Sounds started to echo in his head and disappear and his focus blurred.

“Derek,” he said softly, and it was like the world stopped.

Derek froze, claws prepared as he turned, red eyes direct on Stiles. Scott was dragging himself out of the wreckage. “Stiles, _NO!_ ”

“It's time to go, you two. We have company,” came the dismembered voice of Faye from... wherever she was. “Finish up.”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, scratching so hard at the marks on his neck that he drew blood. Stiles just stood there, holding the bat, not knowing what to do.

“Derek, don't listen to her. Don't listen to her. It's okay. It's okay, Derek. Come here. Come back.”

Derek kept shaking his head, backing away from Stiles, fighting back with all his might. The roof started to crumble, moonlight pouring in through the cracks, shining silver on Derek's skin, and then he dropped to his knees, silent.

Stiles fell too, crawling to him on shuddery limbs. He reached out for him, his breath hitching on the lump in his throat.

“It's gonna be okay, Derek. Don't let her do this.... Don't.... don't leave me.”

He slid a hand against Derek's face, the rough prickle of his stubble against his palm.

“Stiles,” Derek said, like an infant who couldn't form words, his throat raw.

Stiles slid his arms around Derek's neck. “Don't leave me. Don't leave me,” he begged.

Derek's claws buried into his stomach.

The pain didn't come right away. He just looked Derek in the eyes with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak. And he saw the tears running down Derek's cheeks, even though his face was stony. Faye's laughter echoed around Stiles. He tasted copper, felt it dribble from his lips and down his chin, but he wouldn't look away from Derek. No.

Derek pulled away, standing, Stiles's blood on his hands. Stiles reached for him, clasping his fingers around his wrist.

“N---not---- you---” he stammered through the blood in his mouth.

Derek and Otrok leaped into the vines, the plants bursting through the room, covering them as they all made their escape. Stiles didn't move. He just sat, staring at the vacant space where Derek had been, knowing that he was gone but not accepting it. He was bleeding to death. He was vaguely aware of it, but at the same time, it didn't hurt. The injury didn't hurt. The person who did it... that was what was killing him.

And he felt it. For the first time ever in his life, he felt it in its truest form.

Hate.

…

“Stiles! Stiles, oh my _God, Stiles._ ” Scott stumbled over the twisted metal of the bleachers, rushing for his friend.

Stiles was incapacitated, silent, staring, completely unavailable. Blood stained his once crisp, white shirt, blending into the red jeans and shining on the floor. His best friend. _His best friend._

“Stiles. Stiles, look at me. Oh God, it's everywhere.”

Scott desperately tried to gain his friend's attention, but Stiles didn't move. Even when Scott tried his best to take his pain away, it was like he felt nothing. No relief. He just sat there, frozen, gone.

_Gone._

“Stiles. _STILES._ ” Scott pulled Stiles to his chest and cried, anger and terror blasting through his veins and making his head spin. He hadn't been able to stop him.

He hadn't been able to stop any of them.

And then he looked up.

And he saw Sheriff Stilinski.

The guilt was too much. Too much. Too much.

His best friend's blood was on his hands. Lydia was slipping away. Allison was missing. Derek was gone.

He couldn't help but wonder where the fuck he'd gone wrong. All he wanted was to keep people safe. All he'd wanted...

He'd failed them. All of them.

…

“I'd appreciate it if you would stop bringing me people that are _this close_ to death,” Melissa said in a rush as Lydia's stretcher, flanked on each side by Danny and Erica, moved down the hallway.

Sheriff Stilinski didn't argue with her. The second passed her by and she saw Stiles's ghostly face and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, John.” She looked up at him, heartbroken. “Are you okay?”

“I need you to do damage control right now. Don't worry about me. Worry about my son.... I know that's what I'll be doing.” He rushed past her, after Stiles, his face drawn and aged.

Scott was right behind him and his mom reached out and stopped him. “Scott-”

“Mom!” He threw his arms around her like a scared child, trembling. “I've-- I've messed up _everything._ ”

She held him, shushing him, cooing at him. “Shhh, Scott. No, you didn't. But you need to tell me what happened.”

“I... I can't right now, Mom. I just can't. I can't save _anyone._ ”

She didn't know what to say. And she hated that. Growing up, she'd always figured there was some sort of _Mom Dictionary_ that was full of motherly advice and things to say when kids were bad or hurting or scared. But she was speechless. Then again, even if there _had_ been a book, she was pretty sure there wasn't a chapter called _My Son Is a Werewolf! What Do I Do?_

In came the rest of the party, who had clearly followed the ambulances. Isaac and Boyd were bruised and slashed, bleeding, just like her son. They all looked more than worse for wear and completely strung out.

“Scott,” Isaac said, reaching for him.

Scott pulled away from all of them, his eyes flashing gold. “What?! What am I gonna do?! They're... they are in there _dying._ And who knows where Allison is tonight! Derek's gone. What do I _do?!_ I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!” Scott slumped into the wall, his head in his hands.

“They're gonna be okay, Scott.” Isaac spoke with certainty and sweetness, reaching for him again, a hand on each arm. “Breathe. Find your anchor.”

Scott fell apart. Melissa didn't give a shit about werewolves or what was happening. Her little boy was hurting and she couldn't take it. Scott slid down the wall, curling into himself and she knelt by him, along with Isaac.

“Scott,” Melissa said, completely lost at what to say. “Tell me what to do. Anything you want, I'll do it. Please, just...”

“I just want them to be okay,” he whimpered.

“I'm going to do everything, I can, okay?” she said. She knew never to make promises. Not ones she couldn't keep.

She didn't want to leave him. She never wanted to leave him again. But to do what he wanted – she had to. So she stood, her heart hurting, and took off after his friends. She glanced back before she turned the corner, seeing Isaac rubbing his arm, Boyd lingering over them like a protective spirit.

She figured the werewolf thing came with pros and cons.

She was just wondering which would outweigh the other in the end.

…

Derek woke up, finally seeing, as if everything that had happened was just one big nightmare.

Blood had dried to his fingers, dried and crusted up past his knuckles, flaking off and dark-brown-red. It had happened.

“No...” he whispered.

“The consciousness is the worst part.”

He looked up to see Otrok, legs folded, sitting in the corner of... wherever they were. She looked weary, her dark and gray hair falling in long waves on either side of her face. “What?”

“You wake up from it. And you're aware of it, the things you do. But you can't stop it. It's like waking up from a nightmare. The full moon is the worst. It gives you no restraint. She uses the rage inside you. It's always strongest at the full moon, right?”

Derek got to his feet, his head swimming. Only then did he realize he was in a cell of some sort. And he headed for the door.

“I wouldn't do that.”

He didn't heed her warning, and the electric shock sent him careening back into the wall. “Wha--”

“I told you. She'll find any reason in the world to torture us.”

“Why?” Derek turned to her, desperation lingering in the hard edges of his voice. “Why is she doing this?”

“That's a conversation for another night.”

“I don't plan on being here another night.”

“Neither did I.” Otrok sighed. “I think I was maybe seven... eight? When she captured me? I can't remember now. A lot of my memories are scattered and blurry now. My mind's not my own. She's always wanted an Alpha. Now she's got you.”

Derek looked down at his hands, the blood on them. “I... I _killed_ him, didn't I...?”

“You might have.”

Derek fell back against the wall, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “How hard would I have to throw myself at that cell door to kill myself, exactly?”

“Don't be stupid.”

“Fuck you. I want her out of my head. She... she made me...” Derek couldn't even say it. “No. I refuse to live this way.”

“You don't want to think this through a little bit?”

“What's there to think about?!” Derek whirled on her, enraged, fangs and claws popping. “She's got us fucking _trapped_ in this _dungeon_ , and when we're not here, we're going to be out killing people, _more than likely people we care about?!_ No. _Fuck that._ ”

“Derek?”

Derek paused, his ears perking to the sound of a voice. A familiar voice. He rushed to the opposite wall, pressing his ear against it. “Allison?! Allison Argent?” Derek had to yell to be heard, but his ears could pick up Allison's voice just fine.

“Yes! Yes, oh, I never thought I'd be happy to hear your voice.”

The feeling was mutual, but the relief in her put Derek at a little bit of ease. “Allison, can you get out?”

“No. No, she hit me with a paralytic. And she's got me bound by these vines. I'm afraid if I move too much they'll poison me. Not to mention my cell is _also_ electrified.” A pause. “What did she bind you with, Derek?”

Derek leaned his forehead against the stone of the wall. She had bound him by his anger.

He feared it was a chain he could never escape.

Otrok sat, watching him with a trained eye.

“Please don't stop talking, Allison,” he begged. “ _Please._ ”


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think it through.

Chapter Twenty-Four

He didn't want it to be real, not one ounce of it. Stiles fought consciousness with all of his might, because waking up would mean admitting it was real, but eventually, he was lying in the stiff hospital bed, staring up at the too-bright lights, feeling the world, heavy on his skin. His dad's hand was warm in his own, his head hanging back over the edge of the chair he'd scooted up to the bed, asleep. He remembered seeing his dad in a similar position, glimpses of it, holding his mother's bony, ghostly hand as she withered away into the mattress.

He really didn't want to think about that.

He really didn't want to think about anything.

He slowly glided his free hand under his blanket, over his belly. Derek's claws had resided there, ripped him apart. What a perfect way to put it. He'd been ripped apart.

He let out a long breath, shifting in bed. His dad stirred, then bolted upwards, gripping Stiles's hand with both of his.

“Stiles, oh--”

“Hey Dad,” Stiles said softly, his throat hurting.

“Hey,” his father responded, looking pretty lost, brushing the hair back from his son's eyes. “Hey there, kiddo. How ya feelin'?”

“I'll be honest with you Dad. Pretty fucking awful.”

“I know. I know.”

“Have they found Derek? Is Lydia okay?”

“No sign of Derek. Lydia's going to be fine, though she won't be able to talk very much for a little while.

“She's gonna hate that.”

“Stiles, tell me what happened.”

“He... tried to kill me. I thought that was apparent.” He glanced away. “I don't really want to talk about it.”

His dad patted his hand. “...It can wait, Stiles. It can wait.”

It could wait forever. He didn't plan on talking about it, because talking about it would require thinking about it and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Everyone asked. He never said a word.

He had never felt hate so strong in his heart. It made him feel sick, like he'd swallowed poison. It coursed through his veins. He imagined it black, like it was tainted with Wolfsbane, slipping into his heart and darkening it. Even as his body healed, he felt like his head wasn't.

There was no sign of Derek. Not one.

He carried himself down the hall slowly, his stomach aching as he dragged his IV, upping his pain meds as he moved. He wasn't supposed to be out of bed. If his dad came back and saw him gone, he'd probably kill him. But he didn't care.

His dad had also mentioned something that Stiles didn't want to think about.

_Stiles... do you think maybe you should spend a little time away from Scott?_

A.k.a. _Stiles, could you stop chilling with a bunch of werewolves so you might make it to legal drinking age one day?_

Which yeah, would just mean risking his life for stupid shit even more, but maybe his dad didn't want him doing it with werewolves.

Or doing _it_ with any werewolf in the future. Not that _that_ seemed very likely anymore. He leaned on his IV pole and knocked on the door to one of the rooms down the hall. When it opened, he spoke first.

“I need your help.”

…

“Public records,” Isaac announced, dropping paperwork on the table.

They were sitting around Derek's loft, and it felt empty and wrong, the pack being there without his presence looming. Regardless, they were there. Peter stood by the window, stoic and, thankfully, silent for once. Scott didn't have the patience for any kind of sass. Two of his friends were in the hospital, the woman he loved was missing, and Derek had been responsible for two-thirds of that. He wasn't exactly pleased with how things were going. Naturally that was an effect on his mood.

“There isn't much.”

“Faye Arlen is a fake identity. We don't know if what we've _got_ is useful. But it's a start.” Isaac leaned over the table. “She had to have some sort of address and information to get into school. She had to have some sort of semblance of parents, I would think. There's gotta be more to this. It'll at least give us somewhere to start looking.”

Scott dug through the papers, shoulder to shoulder with Isaac, frowning and chewing his lip. Isaac glanced at him, then immediately back to the folder.

“So,” Erica said, standing against the wall. “What have we got?”

“This address probably won't check out. It's on the other side of town. I think it's in that neighborhood that was basically abandoned after an earthquake last year. I don't even know if it's technically in the city limits.”

“I don't remember any earthquake.”

“You're in California. They happen all the time. Sometimes you don't even feel them. But this?” Isaac pulled it up on a map on his phone. “Yeah, it was built on soft ground. The damage to the area was devastating. A lot of people lost their homes. The place is wildly unstable.” Isaac glanced at Scott again. “Scott, have you slept at all?”

He waved him off. “I'm fine. We should check this place out.”

“It's probably a decoy,” Boyd argued. “And a trap. It's dangerous to go running out there expecting to find anything. What else do we have?”

“A bunch of bullshit,” Scott huffed. “Fake social security numbers, GPAs, nothing.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I don't know what else to do.”

“Scott, you should rest-”

“No!” Scott yelled. “No, this... this _girl_ hurt my friends, and I have to find her and _stop_ her. Allison is missing. I know that Faye knows where she is. She's got to be responsible.”

“You're not going to get anything done if you're sleep deprived,” Peter said finally, coldly. “You should listen to your pack, Scott. Being bull-headed only makes you more like Derek.”

“Fuck you, Peter.”

“See? Like that.” He turned away from the window. “Don't be so pissy with me, Scott. You're going around acting like the only person left to my family isn't under control of some psychotic little fairy-girl.”

“You haven't exactly been very warm and tender to the _only person left in your family_ ,” Scott growled. “And he wouldn't _be_ the only one left if you hadn't offed his sister and tried to off him too.”

“You people are very bad at holding grudges.”

A screeching sound filled the room as Scott's clawed fingers dragged across the table, clenching into a fist.

“Look,” Peter said, holding up his hands, trying to keep the peace. “I'm saying we need to be more careful in going after her. She's nearly killed the pack twice now, and we need to be prepared the next time we fight her. I would quite love to rip her esophagus out of her neck, but I'm not about to go rushing in without a second thought.”

“So what do you recommend?” Erica spat, still dubious.

Peter sighed through his nose. “We need to figure out why she's so angry, why she wants to control werewolves, and how she got her hands on this kind of power. We find those things, we can take her down.”

“Great. How do we find them?” Isaac asked, frowning, putting a hand on Scott's shoulder.

“Well, that's obviously the part we need to figure out. Now. Lydia was on to something when she was studying up on this girl. Something about a growing life force. We need to talk to her.”

“She can't talk. Remember? Derek tried to rip her throat out. Guess it runs in the family,” Scott hissed, not ready to deal with anything Peter said.

“Are you in this to help him at all?”

“No, I'm in this to _kill Faye_ and get Allison back. That's what I'm in this for. Derek-- he nearly wiped out my best friend and I don't think I'm ready to forgive him for that.”

“He was under mind control, Scott,” Erica said softly. “You can't get angry at him for doing something against his own will.”

“He could have _tried harder!_ ” Scott argued, looking strung out. “It was _Stiles_ , for God's sake.” He looked about ready to fall apart all over again.

“Scott, let's go outside and cool off, okay? We gotta get our heads together before we make any rash decisions.” Isaac led Scott to the door, keeping a firm grip on his arm and shoulder. They took the freight elevator down. Scott was terribly silent as they stepped out into the cold night air.

“Scott,” Isaac said. “ _Scott._ ”

“What, Isaac? I can't deal with this right now, okay? I'm tired of him standing around up there calling the shots. He wasn't _there_.”

“I know he wasn't. Come here.” Isaac wrapped his arms around Scott and hugged him with a sigh. “Sucks, doesn't it? Feel completely powerless.”

“You're not really helping by telling me that,” Scott said, muffled against Isaac's shoulder.

“I'm trying to acknowledge that this is definitely fucking crazy,” Isaac replied. He took a long breath. “You're having a tough time because you can't find your anchor, Scott. Allison is your anchor. I get that. But look, focus.” Scott rubbed his eyes, looking at Isaac in the moonlight. “We are here to help you. All of us. You're not taking this on by yourself, and I'm not about to let you start taking responsibility for what Faye did to our friends. You saved my life, Scott. You're one of the most loyal, trustworthy people I know. I'll follow you wherever you want me to go, but... but you have to get your wits about you. You gotta get it together, Scott. This. Is not. Your fault.”

Scott sighed again, looking heavy, like the world was still resting on his shoulders. “Stiles's dad... he asked me to stay away for awhile. I mean, I don't think he wants me and Stiles to stop being friends or anything, but...”

“He's scared.”

“Yeah. He's scared. And he should be. I mean, look what happened to his _son_ , to _Lydia!_ That... that was close. Too close.” Scott dropped down onto the ground, leaning against the brick of the building.

“Yeah.” Isaac kicked a rock off into the bushes. “Danny didn't take it very well. He said he was terrified of telling Jackson.”

“Heh, maybe he'll come back from London and help us.”

“You want that?”

“No. I'd prefer it if Jackson was always on the other side of the planet from me. Six hour time difference is plenty.” He looked out over the grounds, the other buildings looming nearby. “So what's going on with you and Danny?”

“What do you mean?”

“You like him or something?”

Isaac laughed, looking a little bitter. “Heh, not exactly, no. We're friends. He's been kind of lost since Jackson left.”

“I don't understand why someone as great as Danny could like Jackson.”

“Jackson had good parts. He just kept them strategically hidden.” Isaac held out a hand to Scott. “There's good and bad in all of us.”

Scott took it, hopping up. “I guess I need to remember that sometimes. Okay. Let's find out everything we can.”

…

It had been a month. Derek sat in the cell, his head in his hands.

“You've got to stop grieving that kid. It's over now.”

“Shut up, Otrok.”

“That's not my actual name you know.” She slid her hand over the wall, moving towards him. “It's Aylin.”

“She's been sending us on killing sprees for days on end and _now_ you want to get personal? That's all I hear her call you.”

“At least it's not your town. She's having you kill other people to get the blood. I'd prefer it if you at least knew my name. Otrok stands for slave. I'm sure she'll come up with a creative name for you at some point too. She'll take her time slowly dehumanizing you.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn't see the human side of werewolves. She hates us. She's caught between wanting us dead and wanting us miserable.”

“What the hell did a werewolf do to her?”

Aylin ran a hand through her hair. “My father.” She sighed. “Faye is not a teenager like she leads people to believe. She fell in love with my father.” She shook her head. “All those years ago? We got along fine. Fairies and werewolves lived amongst each other. We depended on each other to keep ourselves safe from hunters. But Faye wanted more.”

“Did she get it?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

“I don't know. I was very young then. All I know is that she became very angry with my father. I heard them fighting one night.... She was crying. She said he had taken advantage of her love. She said he would regret how he had scorned her.”

“What happened?”

“The rest? I don't know. All I do know is that the next morning, I came running home from playing in the woods to see my home burned to the ground. She had slaughtered my parents. I remember... I remember her eyes... staring me down with all this malice, all this power. And she said... _you're mine now._ I tried to run, but she was too strong. She trapped me and then she marked me. Since then, I've been doing her bidding.”

“How could you do the bidding of someone who destroyed everyone you love?”

“You think I want to? I'm infuriated. You don't get that kind of rage out of you. It settles in your bones and on your skin. It poisons you and it eats you from the inside out. It never goes away.”

“But why does she have Allison?” Derek looked to the wall. On the other side, he knew Allison was sleeping. There was something calming about her presence after a month of talking through the wall. Some days he just sat against the wall and listened to the calm thump of her heartbeat. Allison had struggled against her restraints on particularly difficult days. Sometimes she would scream and cry. Others she would seem almost to give up. Those were the days she would talk to him the most. And he'd actually learned a lot about her. Having a familiar voice around was probably the only thing keeping him sane.

She'd been eating the scraps that Faye provided her. Derek wasn't sure why she was keeping her alive, honestly. All of Faye's motives seemed jumbled, a mess. He was sure there was something behind it.

“That, I don't know.”

“Have you ever tried to fight back?”

“Of course. But I never win. The pain is too much. And she's only gotten more powerful.”

“And why come here?”

“She came here because she heard of your family, Derek. Unfortunately the Hale family perished before she had the chance to load up on her... pets. But she's been watching you and the rest of the pack for quite some time. Apparently the power intrigued her. I try not to question her motives anymore. I just do what she says...”

“I don't understand how you can just... _let her--_ ”

“I have nothing. I am nothing. Why bother fighting it?” She shook her head. “Don't worry. You'll fight her, but soon enough, you'll give in. You don't have anything either. And if she catches on that you're connecting with the girl through the wall? She'll probably kill her too. She will kill all of them.”

“I have to get out of here,” Derek muttered. “Is there any way to get free of this spell?”

Aylin shrugged. “I don't know. Why the fuck would I know?”

…

“Scott?”

“Yeah, mom?” Scott had his face buried in one of Lydia's books. Isaac had fallen asleep on one on the floor. Boyd and Erica were staring at the computer screen, looking more than a little braindead.

“Have you seen Stiles?”

He glanced up. “Stiles's dad wanted him to take a break from me.... Why?”

“His dad just called asking me if he was here. He says Stiles has been disappearing about this time every night since he got home from the hospital. He wanted to see if he was coming here.”

“No... no, he hasn't even texted me. And he's been ignoring me at school for the most part. I mean, I've told him some stuff...” Scott bowed his head. “Has he heard anything about Allison?”

“No.”

“With all the people being murdered outside of town... I'm not about to wait for him to call us. I'm calling Stiles.” Scott pulled out his cell phone and dial him up.

“Hello?” Stiles voice was low and determined.

“Stiles, where are you?”

“What? You want to meet me? Did you get the information on Faye?”

Scott looked at his notes, along with the ones Lydia had scrawled, looking very irritated that she couldn't speak. “We might have something. Where are you?”

“I'll meet you.” Stiles hung up.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me?

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Hey,” Stiles greeted, a bit languid, like he hadn't been avoiding the wolf pack for weeks.

Like he wasn't wearing all black and combat boots like he was some sort of combat-ready ninja.

Like he wasn't lugging a shotgun on his shoulder.

Like fucking _Mr. Argent wasn't standing right behind him._

“Whaaa--” Scott tried to form words but he'd seem to have forgotten them.

“He needs my help. I need his. So.” Stiles shrugged.

Scott attempted to talk again but only managed hand gestures and spouts of sound.

“You're so eloquent, Scott,” Mr. Argent said.

“You're not gonna kill us, are you?” Erica asked, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

He rolled his eyes. “I would have done it already if I wanted to, don't you think?”

Erica's eyes widened, and she smiled, impressed. “Woo, Stiles. That's not your typical response.”

“Yeah, well things aren't all that _typical_ right now. What'd you find out?”

“Stiles--”

“What. Did you. Figure out?” He wasn't taking any shit. Scott eyed his shotgun with wariness.

“We've been studying a number of murders that have been taking place just outside of Beacon Hills.” Scott gestured toward the house.

Being in a room with werewolves and hunters was always uneasy, but Scott couldn't seem to swallow down his discomfort with Stiles calmly sitting by the window, this strange, frightening intensity in his eyes that he'd never seen. Mr. Argent stood by the door like a true hunter, standing in a corner where he could view the entire room in case of attack.

“Six murders this month. And they're not tiny by any means. What's weird about them isn't just how brutally they're murdered. It's that their hearts are ripped out of their chests.” Erica dropped the newspapers onto the bed. “Police are suspecting a serial killer. But I think you'd know better.”

“Every single one?”

“Yeah. Sometimes single people walking alone at night. Sometimes entire families.... I don't know why.”

“I'll get my hands on the police reports,” Stiles said easily.

“How? Your dad won't have access to those things.”

“So I'll steal them.” Stiles pulled an apple out of his bag, wiped it on his shirt and took a bite. “Done and done.”

Scott frowned. “I don't think stealing from the police is the way to go.”

“We need info. They need them stopped. I don't see the problem.”

“I do,” Isaac snarked. “It's the whole _hey my friends are werewolves and you totally need to believe me officer_ thing.” He rolled his eyes. “You'll be in handcuffs within minutes.”

Stiles chewed a little slower like he was contemplating something rude. “Fine. What else?”

“We think that Faye's base is somewhere around this neighborhood.” Boyd laid out a map they'd printed and circled. “It was nearly destroyed in an earthquake early last year. Erica and I went to check it out.” He pulled out his phone, flicking through photos. “Look at this.”

Stiles peered at the phone, slight signs of disbelief playing on his features. He took another bite. Scott watched quietly. The house that Faye was likely occupying had been overwhelmed with plant life, it stretching from the center out over the entirety of the neighborhood. It was covered in poisonous vines and thorny bushes.

“You _think_ her base is there? It's obviously there.”

“You wanna tone down the snark, Stiles, hm?” Boyd raised his eyebrows at Stiles, not taking his shit. “It could easily be a trap too. She's not stupid.”

“What if it isn't a trap? What if that's her base? Did you not go inside to find out?”

Boyd was silent, his lips thinning in annoyance.

“Answer me,” Stiles commanded, getting to his feet. “Did you guys just stand there and camwhore while your Alpha was inside? While Allison was in there?”

“We're not going in without a plan.”

“Fuck plans.”

“Yeah, because winging it has worked _so well for you,_ ” Erica hissed, stunning Stiles into silence. She turned to Scott. “What do you want to do?”

“Can we get these attacks on a police scanner?” Mr. Argent spoke up.

Stiles blinked, a little doe-eyed, which was a lot more like the Stiles Scott knew. A slight reprieve. “Hm? Maybe. Why?”

“Maybe we can catch them in the act. This...” he pointed to the newspaper. “Removing the hearts seems ritualistic to me. The question isn't _why_ they're removing them – it's _what_ they're doing with them. Now.” He pushed off the wall a little bit, moving into the room. “What I gather here is that Faye needed an Alpha to pursue whatever she's doing now. I'm going to assume that having control of an Alpha gives her better control over the Omega she's got, gives her the opportunity to have more vicious, brutal attacks without having to actually set foot on the battlefield. But to control someone mentally from that kind of distance requires a lot of power. A _lot_ of it. So what I'm betting is the hearts have something to do with that.”

“Why try to gain power just to use it all up before it gets back to you?”

“She's not moving too far out of this area.” Chris labeled the murders on the map, and they were fairly close by. “She's saving up power for something. That's why this place is so overgrown. I'm not as well read on fairies as I am on other creatures, but I do know that a plant-elemental usually has a lifeforce outside of her body.”

“Like what?”

“Like a fruit. Or better yet, a tree.”

“So why grow her lifeforce to that degree? Seems dangerous, leaving her own heart exposed.”

“That, I don't know.” Chris sighed, flicking through the pictures. “But she's getting stronger. If we could maybe lure the wolves further away from her, we might be able to get their wits about them. Maybe. I'm not as familiar with this spell. I've looked at everything I have. I can only make assumptions about the details of her abilities.”

Stiles munched on his apple, leaning back into the window, thinking. “And the wolfsbane?”

“Lydia said-- well, she _wrote_ \--that Faye can only cultivate her own plants under the full moon. Which is probably why she hasn't been hunting us down with it. We have defenses against her Yellow Wolfsbane, but not the red. And definitely not whatever it is she packs in those bullets.”

“The full moon is in like, three days.”

Stiles sucked in a long breath through his nose. “So we're going to sit here and wait for her?”

“I have a feeling,” Chris said, trying to keep the room from getting too angry, “That with it coming, she's about to ramp up the killings. And if we want to find out why, we need to be there when they happen.”

“What about Allison?” Scott asked, looking at her father. He sighed, looking a little lost and terrified, walling it up behind a mask of stone.

“I don't know why she has her. She attacked me, left me for dead. By the time I gained consciousness and got back to my home, she was gone.”

“Well, Danny said _play ball,_ ” Stiles announced, getting to his feet. “I'm getting that police scanner. Let's bust some skulls.”

…

“I don't know about this new Stiles,” Isaac murmured, trailing along behind the group with Scott.

“Me neither.”

“You don't think... you know... that he snapped or something, do you? The guy he's been sleeping with nearly killed him and one of his best friends, a girl who he was kind of obsessed with for a huge chunk of his life. Now he's walking around with a shotgun on his shoulder, and I'm pretty sure it's resting on a huge chip if you catch my drift.” Isaac swallowed. “You don't think he's gonna kill Derek, do you?”

“I don't know. I don't know what he's thinking. I haven't had a chance to even talk to him about it.”

Stiles disappeared through his front door and reappeared a few minutes later toting a scanner under his arm. “Anyone up for a little road trip?”

…

“I don't feel well.”

“Hm?” Derek leaned into the wall, listening to the croak that was Allison's voice. “Allison, what's wrong?”

Her heartbeat was a slow thump, her breath sounding thick in her throat. “I haven't felt well for two days.... Something's wrong. I-- I don't know what.” He heard rocks shift under her as she moved. “I'm cold... I'm cold...”

“Why haven't you told me?”

“I... I didn't think it was anything. It just... it got worse all of the sudden.”

Her heartbeat rocketed to a pounding thud against her ribs. Derek felt fear drenching him, cold and sobering. “Allison, you need to calm down. Allison?”

No response.

“ _ALLISON?!_ ”

His neck started burning and he scratched it, roaring and stumbling backwards.

“She's calling.” Aylin lifted her eyes to look at him, aglow from the dark corner of the room. “She wants us to kill.”

“I know that,” Derek spat.

Faye came floating down the stairs on easy feet, smirking. “Hello lovelies. Ready to bring mommy some hearts?” She made a pouty face at Derek, mocking him. “I bet your mother always said you'd be a heartbreaker.”

Derek's chest heaved with breath as he struggled against her will. Images started blasting through his mind, of Kate, of the fire, of his sister buried in the ground. He clutched at his head, trying to shake the memories out, but they wouldn't budge. He saw Stiles, bleeding on the ground, looking up at him like he'd never expected to be betrayed.

“You really should stop fighting me. They only get worse if you fight me.” She smirked, slipping into the form of Stiles, giving him a blazing look from beyond the bars. “Don't feel so bad about hurting me Derek. You are aware I never gave a crap about you, right? I expected you to kill me. You're a fucking madman. What? Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?”

Derek was being pulled away. He had no anchor for his beast, because it only brought him further from consciousness. He felt like he was grasping at straws. Everything was slipping through his fingers.

He saw red.

…

“Off they go,” Faye said, with a lilting little chuckle in her voice. “How are you feeling, Allison, hm?”

Allison awoke; rolled her eyes over to the fairy, feeling her pulse drop, letting out a long breath. “What are you doing to me?” The vines around her legs and arms had started to glow and pulse. They were no longer just her restraints...they felt like they were draining her. “Why....? Why have you kept me alive?”

“Oh, relax. It won't be _that_ much longer. I'm sure your experience of death will be a nice one.” Faye waltzed through the door of the cell, reaching out to pet Allison's hair. Allison responded by spitting in her face. She scowled, smacking her. “You're feisty. I'll give you that. Must suck, hm? Feeling so helpless? Don't you worry, honey.” She lifted one of Allison's hands, eyes pouring over them like they were something delicious. “The power these hands could possess.... I think it would impress even you. You're always grasping for your own power. But maybe it just never belonged to you.”

“Fuck you,” Allison said, her voice low in her throat as she ignored the tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes.

“It'll all be over soon.”

…

“Here we go. Turn left. Park on that dark street.”

“Why not go up to the house?” Erica asked.

They were all piled into Chris Argent's SUV. Stiles rolled his eyes. “You wanna be seen?”

Mr. Argent slid into an empty drive, parking the car and turning off the engine. Stiles immediately bailed and walked around to the back, popping open the back door and loading up. He harnessed two pistols, slid two knives safely into his boots and shouldered his shotgun.

“The police are surrounding the place and checking everything out, but knowing werewolves, they're already gone. But they're nearby. Why don't you try to sniff 'em out?”

Scott was too busy staring at his best friend.

“Smells pretty much like blood. Strong. Even from here it's intoxicating,” Isaac said softly. “How many bodies?”

“Judging by the amount of police cars? Plenty. Come on.”

Stiles started traipsing into the woods behind the house, keeping low so he was not seen, and the others followed, because what else could they do?

“Anything?”

“No. She might have been able to warp their scents though--”

“Shhh, shh--” Stiles held up a hand, freezing in his spot.

Just ahead, in a clearing, bathed in moonlight, was Derek, his head bowed, hands covered in blood, all the way up to his elbows. Scott looked at Stiles, and his heart ached.

He'd never seen that look before. Stiles was stricken, lost, and so, _so_ hurt. It was like seeing Derek stand there was more painful than any wound he'd been delivered. Like he wanted to reach out, but didn't. Because it would make no difference. Otrok approached Derek in the clearing.

“They've been buried.”

The markings on their necks, their collars, their chains, glowed red, painful.

“Buried...” Chris muttered.

Stiles reached for one of his guns with shaking hands. Derek made move to leave, then paused, turning.

He looked right at them. Right at Stiles. Stiles froze.

“We have company,” Derek said.

But it didn't sound like Derek. And it didn't look like Derek.

But it definitely looked like they were in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter. 
> 
> [BTW follow me on Tumblr if you want. ](http://lizzeh-boo.tumblr.com)


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold your breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to figure out how this thing got so long.... That being said, this might be my favorite chapter so far.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chris drew his gun and pointed it at Derek. “Where's Allison?” he commanded, glaring. Stiles still held steady, but his hand was trembling.

Derek's eyes glowed red, scanning over Mr. Argent with hatred.

Otrok roared, diving into the group without hesitation. Isaac yelped as her claws sunk into his flesh and he kicked her off of him and into a nearby tree.

“You're outnumbered,” Stiles said, whirling on her and blasting two bullets into her thigh. She screeched, clambering behind a tree. Isaac froze, just shy of getting hit with one himself, eyes aglow and offended. “Why don't you answer the man's question.”

“What is _that_?” Erica shrieked, pointing just past Stiles's head.

He only had the chance to turn before he was knocked to the ground by... what the fuck _was it_?

“Stiles!” Scott yelled, attacking the... thing. It looked almost like it had grown from the forest itself, human in the nature of it's movements, but also strictly plant-like, shifting in the breeze and wrapping around trees and slithering across the ground.

Stiles breathed.

He looked at Derek.

Three more plant-monsters (what else could Stiles call them?) sprouted from the ground and he stumbled backwards, kicking up dirt on the ground in his scramble. He shot at them – one, two, three – but it only knocked it back for a moment. Stiles managed to get to his feet and bolted into the trees. He could hear the leaves crunching behind him, and he knew he was being followed, but he kept running until he was out of breath, sweating, desperate. The body behind him tackled him and he rolled into a clearing, twigs and fallen branches cutting at his skin. He only managed to stop himself just shy of a cliffside.

It was a hell of a drop. Probably about thirty feet into a ravine. Stiles felt his air catch in his throat, head hanging over, staring straight down into the pit. The familiar body on top of him grabbed him by the back of the shirt, pulling Stiles clear off the ground and tossing him casually into the center of the clearing. Stiles's skidded in the mud, it smearing up his back, cold as it slid under his shirt and stuck in his hair.

Derek's eyes were bright in the darkness as he turned, teeth bared. Stiles held tightly to his guns.

He was alone.

He aimed, but Derek pushed him into the ground, his large hand in the middle of Stiles's chest. Stiles grimaced at the pressure between his lungs, Derek leering at him through narrow slits. Stiles glared him down, fearless.

He'd made the decision the day after he'd been attacked. He made the decision that he wasn't going to actively let things get taken away from him. He was tired of standing around being useless. He'd accepted the fact that he'd stumbled into a pretty supernatural, paranormal life, but he wasn't about to let Scott run off and fight his battles for him. Derek, neither. Not that Derek seemed to be fighting _for him_ at the moment.

He remembered standing outside of Mr. Argent's room. He remembered hesitating. He remembered being furious that he hesitated.

They had needed each other's help, after all. Allison was missing. Naturally, Mr. Argent agreed to train Stiles in the art of hunting. And yeah, he wasn't perfect at it, but he was a quick learner, especially without distraction. His passion drove him. His rage and his hate burned in his bones when his muscles tried to give, and he kept going, kept learning, fought through the pain of his injuries, through the cry of his human body. Because he would be damned if he was going to be tossed aside for simply not being a werewolf.

He had considered asking Scott to turn him. It had been a fleeting thought, but one he had thought all the same.

Derek sniffed Stiles warily, smelling from just below his navel up to the side of his neck. Stiles held his breath, swallowing the terror in his throat, even as Derek growled low in his stomach.

“Let me go,” Stiles whispered, pushing a pistol into Derek's shoulder. “I mean it, Derek.”

His eyes flickered, green-gray in the moonlight. “Stiles,” he said softly.

Stiles's heart shattered. He'd been wanting to hear that for a month.

“Let me go,” Stiles said again with more volume but less conviction. It hurt just to say. Because he was looking at _Derek_ , not _Derek-Under-Control_ , but _Derek,_ who had come to him in the middle of the night so many times, seeking companionship, seeking warmth, seeking composure. And Stiles had given it freely and willingly because he wanted the same. In the crazy world they were living in they had some how, some way, managed to come together and find something tangible. And Stiles felt like it was turning to dust in front of him.

He felt the phantom pain of Derek's claws in his gut, the discovery that he maybe didn't have quite as strong a hold on Derek as he'd thought.

That was the worst part. Feeling like he wasn't good enough to break through the holds Faye had on him. And it was selfish as hell, but Stiles didn't care. It was part of why he was so infuriated. He'd brought Derek back from the brink multiple times, tamed the beast that was his Alpha side, but when it came to his anger – he couldn't let go of it, even when it came to Stiles.

Stiles was tired of coming in fucking second. Tired of being benched for the real games. Tired of everyone thinking he was just perfectly fine with _getting over things_. He wasn't.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, his eyes still flickering back and forth, his control faltering. “I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” Stiles said, firing four rounds into Derek's shoulder.

Derek roared, toppling off of Stiles, clutching at his wounds. Stiles rolled over, reloading the clip and pointing at Derek. Derek's skin began to heal.

“There's no wolfsbane in these...” he murmured.

“Go away, Derek,” Stiles said. “You can't control yourself so go away before you do something stupid.” It took every ounce of will in Stiles's body to keep his voice steady.

Derek looked down at the ground. “Stiles...”

Stiles fired. Derek's body shook with the impact of each bullet. He flopped back onto the grass with a breath. Stiles swallowed a lump in his throat, holstering his guns and reaching down in his boot to pull a knife.

“Get off the fucking ground... and _go!_ ”

“No,” Derek groaned, shaking his head, his hands sliding along the red lines on his neck rather than over his bullet wounds.

“I could cut your throat out,” Stiles threatened. “I'm not weak. I'm not gonna let you take me down. Not this time.”

“I don't... I don't... want to...” Derek grimaced, struggling. “I never wanted to.”

“But you did,” Stiles said coldly.

Derek bowed his head, silent.

“If you want to help me, tell me how to fight them. Tell me how to stop her.”

“I can't. I don't know.”

“Then you're useless to me. Get out of my face.”

Stiles stomped through the mud back into the trees, his back to Derek, fighting the stinging in his eyes, trying to convince himself it was the air making them hurt.

Then he heard it.

It started out as a howl, sad, heartwrenching and low, blasting up to the sky and all around him. Stiles wanted to shut it out because it rattled his bones and made his muscles twitch and made his heart want to go back. But it changed. Its mourning transformed into something much, much more sinister. A loud roar that rumbled the ground beneath him and scared away animals nearby. Birds burst into the sky, crowing in fear. Stiles glanced back. And then he ran.

The shadow of Derek's Alpha form filled the forest, and all Stiles could do was run.

…

Scott perked, vines tangling around his arms. He could hear it. The howl...

“Shit.”

Mr. Argent sliced the plant-being in half with a long-blade knife. It slowly began to regenerate.

“How the fuck do we fight these things? They just reform!”

“I don't know how to stop them, but I know how to slow them down. There's a gas can in the car. Think you can get it?”

Scott looked back in the direction of the car, where his friends were fighting plant-creatures and Otrok too. He would have to avoid all the commotion and move fast, not to mention avoid any traps the creatures might have set. Oh, and try to be stealthy enough to get to the car without the police officers noticing.

“Yeah, totally.”

The howl he'd heard changed to a roar that made Scott's heart pound. He had to be fast. Really _really_ fucking fast.

…

Allison gasped, her limbs tingling and stinging at the vines around them. She struggled against them, but to no avail. She could see Faye from the inside of her cage, her hand on the wall. It was lighting up, pulsing. The whole place seemed to be pulsing with energy.

“Good... good. It'll be ready on time.” Faye turned back to her and Allison was almost sick.

She looked like a corpse, gaunt and pale and terrifying.

“The price of power.” She came through the cage, reaching out to touch Allison's face. When she did, Allison felt all of her energy drain from her, sucked away from her without any chance of fighting back. Faye was revitalized. “Won't last long. But no worries. I've discovered a much more _permanent solution_.”

…

Trees were falling all around Stiles. He panted, pushing himself to go faster, having to leap when a tree crashed just behind his heel. A glance back with his peripheral vision revealed basically only frightening, blood-colored eyes and gleaming white teeth. Stiles dove to the left into a thicket of trees, rolling in the dirt as the hulking beast barreled by, enraged and blind to his surroundings.

Stiles took a breath, leaning against a fallen tree, watching him go. He knew he couldn't rest long. He had to go after him, stop him. His friends couldn't be far and they were already overwhelmed and outnumbered.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he couldn't bring himself to his feet. He had worked so hard to get stronger, to toughen the fuck up, and he was still sitting there, paralyzed in the remnants of Derek's presence. He was so angry. At everything. At Derek. At Faye. At the situation they were in. He wanted to go home with Derek and curl with him under the blankets and sleep until everything went away, trapped in the warmth of his body heat, the soft curve of his lips against his forehead. He wanted things to go back to the way they were.

But they wouldn't. Life just didn't work that way.

He wanted to be enough for Derek to come back. Not in small instances. In one foul swoop. He got to his feet and started walking, his heart pounding in his ears. He could see the glint of his shotgun toward the edge of the forest, hear the sounds of the fighting. And he knew...

The shotgun had Wolfsbane bullets. He kept a trained eye on it, moving slowly, shakily, fingers drumming against his thighs. Blood was running down his hand. When he had leaped, his knife had slipped from his fingers, slicing into his skin, leaving hot sticky blood on his skin, mixing with the spray from Derek.

Their blood intermingling. It just seemed too perfect.

When he closed his fist around the barrel of it, he swallowed, the cold metal almost too much for him to think about. He lifted it, staring through the scope. He could see the shadow of Derek's Alpha form, towering over his friends, Otrok by his side and plant creatures all around. His friends were cornered. Stiles aimed.

He hesitated.

Chris sparked his lighter and flames engulfed the plant creatures, along with most of the perimeter. Stiles stumbled back, shielding his eyes from the sudden light and heat. He scooted backwards, his adrenaline pumping again as the flames licked closer and closer to the treetops.

He had to get out. He had to get out. He had to---

He saw Derek through the haze of the smoke and the glow of Hell. Derek, who looked terrified and very much like himself. _Derek_.

Derek was petrified of fire. Fire had taken his family from him. His life had been burned away and he had fought tooth and nail to rebuild it. And here it was again, the Devil's golden hair licking up toward the sky, signifying that it was all going away again, and Stiles felt ashamed. He tossed the gun aside and jumped through the wall of flames, feeling the singe to the edges of his skin and clothing. He shielded his face with his arms as he flew through, tumbling onto the ground to put out the flames on his clothing. His eyes watered in the smoke as he stood, staring Derek down. Derek had ceased being a beast and was shielding Otrok.

He was _shielding her._

Even in the face of everything he feared, he still stood and took the blows because god forbid someone else do it in his place. Stiles felt his heart stutter.

Derek really _was_ still there.

A scream echoed through the land, loud and enraged and pained. It was a high pitched shriek that blared in Stiles's ears and made the wildlife around him curl and cringe. It was Faye. Derek and Otrok clung to each other, faces twisted in agony as her power overwhelmed them. Derek looked up, eyes flickering, staring Stiles down, so lost, so alone.

Stiles stood among the flames, silhouetted, tears welling in his eyes.

“It's okay,” he said softly, knowing that only Derek (and probably Otrok) would hear. “It's okay, Derek.” He blinked, tears rolling down his face. “We're okay.... Everything's gonna be okay.”

Derek swallowed. Stiles could visibly see it, even as he coughed in the smoke. Soon enough though it billowed so thick that he couldn't see either of them. Only then did he realize that he could hardly breathe, that his skin was blistered and stinging, that his heart was trying to pound through his chest. And down he went, toppling over like a ton of bricks, right into Mr. Argent, who had run to catch him. He lifted him easily and they were racing from the woods. Derek was gone. Gone again.

It began raining, the flames dying down under the frigid downpour. Stiles coughed and sputtered as they broke through the woods, wriggling against Mr. Argent's grip.

“We ha—have to-- go back,” he wheezed.

“They're gone, Stiles.”

“He was _there!_ ” Stiles forced himself out of Chris's arms, falling to the ground, his stomach lurching. He puked, his chest aching, head spinning.

“We need to get you to a hospital, Stiles. You inhaled too much smoke,” Chris said.

Stiles tried to get to his feet, but his knees were weak. His head was too heavy. Scott reached out to steady him.

“He's right, Stiles. We have to go.”

“The last place I want to be is a hospital. I'm so sick of hospitals,” Stiles slurred, his eyes rolling over to Mr. Argent who was blurring into a vision much more similar to his dad. When he spoke, he felt like his words were too big for his mouth, like he had to chew them and spit them out. “I'm so tired of hospitals, Dad. When is she coming home...? Is she ever coming home?”

His vision went black and he went slack in Scott's arms, his eyelashes wet against his cheeks.

His shotgun was still lying somewhere in the smoldering woods.

…

“Don't tell my dad.” Stiles looked rough, mud caked on his clothes, plenty of bloody scratches and bruises coloring his skin.

“Try not to talk. Just breathe.” Ms. McCall looked less than pleased to be holding the plastic oxygen mask to Stiles's face.

“What if I said please?” Stiles's voice was muffled. Scott rolled his eyes dramatically behind his mother.

“If I said _please_ would you stop showing up in the Emergency Room every couple of weeks?” Melissa was not in the mood. She whipped a look to Mr. Argent. “I didn't expect you to be part of their rough and tumble gang Mr. Argent.”

“Things got a little out of hand,” he said calmly.

There was a brief moment where they stared each other down, a face-off. Scott fought the urge to step between them.

“Look,” she sighed, looking away finally, weary. “Stiles. I love you like you were my own. Hell, you've been at my house long enough that I should be able to collect you on taxes. You've eaten my food and watched my TV and slept on my sofa more times than I can count. So please, _please_ stop scaring me. I know your dad is horrified of losing you, but I am too, okay? Stop being so reckless.” She turned to the rest of the group. “All of you. _Please._ How is that for a request?”

Everyone looked a little sheepish.

“I'm not telling your dad, Stiles. I'll handle it.” She sighed. “But only because I can't stand to see that look on his face.”

Stiles's cheeks colored in shame and he looked away. Scott glanced at all the companions in the room, frowning.

“Uhh... Mom? Can Stiles and I have a minute alone?”

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Okay. Fine. Five minutes.” She shooed the rest of the group out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Stiles...” Scott said softly. He hadn't talked to his best friend alone in so long. He didn't even know how to begin. So he started the only way he really knew how at that point. “Are you... are you okay?”

Stiles pulled the oxygen mask off his face in a huff, slumping over his knees. “I-- I don't know. I guess. I'm alive.”

Scott sat on the exam table, by Stiles's feet, twiddling his thumbs. “I've been... really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“You distanced yourself from me a lot. I didn't really know what to do. I haven't gone one day without you next to me and all of a sudden you vanished.”

Stiles ran his hands down his face and repeated, “I know.”

“And then you come back and you're like... some sort of badass with guns and knives and attitude and I just... what happened, Stiles?”

“I got tired of being in the background. I got tired of not being able to keep up.” Stiles drew his knees to his chest, giving Scott more room to sit. “I didn't leave your side, Scott. I fell behind. I've told you before that I can't do the things you do, but I don't think you realize how far that actually goes. And that's okay, Scott. Okay? It's fine. I don't want to be a werewolf. Hell, I even considered it for a second or two. Maybe longer. But that's not what I want.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I don't know... I don't know how Derek and me happened. I don't know what's going on. I just.... I'm so _angry_ , Scott. I'm so fucking... _pissed off._ I can't just sit still and stew in it. I can't.”

“Stiles... do you want to hurt Derek? Because he hurt you?”

“No,” Stiles admitted, getting teary and looking exhausted. “I don't. I'm so mad at him because... because he couldn't break free of it. Not for me. I'm so fucking selfish.” Stiles buried his face in his knees, broken.

Scott put a hand on Stiles's foot, a comforting gesture but an unsure one. He wasn't used to Stiles being the one fraying at the seams. Stiles had always been the one holding the group together, albeit in somewhat unorthodox ways.

“You're not, Stiles.”

“I am. I just want him _back_ , Scott. I don't know why. I don't know when it got to this point. But every time I close my eyes I see him. I feel his claws in my gut. I see the tears in his eyes. I know that he's... he's _in there_. I want to be strong enough to break him free. But I don't want to do it for him. I want to do it for me. Because I want him around. I want him in my bed. I want him next to me. And I keep thinking that's the worst thing ever, Scott. Because... because he's sacrificed _so much._ I don't feel like we ever talk about it. But he does. And it's not enough for me. It's not fucking enough.”

“Stiles, it's okay to feel that way. You love him. Love makes you selfish.”

Stiles's eyes flicked up to Scott's face for a long, silent moment. “What?” he whispered, almost daring Scott to repeat himself.

“You love him... don't you?”

Stiles buried himself in his knees again. “God...” he groaned, muffled against his knees. “I think I do.”


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who cares?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Stiles was alive. Stiles was alive. Stiles was alive.

It was the first thing Derek thought of when he came to in his cell. His entire body ached, but he didn't care. He was just happy Stiles was alive.

_We're okay... Everything's going to be okay._ His words played in Derek's mind on a loop as he came down from the thrill. Stiles had said it with tears in his eyes, flames dancing around him. All Derek had wanted to do was go to him, but his feet wouldn't carry him. The sadness hit him like a ton of bricks. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking, a little bleary as he looked around the cell.

“Your friend isn't well,” Aylin said softly, leaning against the wall. “I don't know why she's having us bury the hearts and bring back blood. But I'm certain this girl has something to do with it. Her heartbeat's very slow.”

Derek jumped up, ignoring the smarting in his healing wounds, crossed the room, and pressed his ear to the opposite wall. Sure enough, there was a dull thud of a heartbeat, very slow, very faint.

“Allison? Allison, can you hear me?”

There was a soft hum in her throat. “Derek,” she whispered, like she really didn't have the strength to raise it any higher. “Derek, I'm dying.” There was a sob lodged in there, but she didn't let it free.

“I'm gonna get you out,” Derek said, suddenly determined. He couldn't let her die. He clawed at the walls, pulling away when he felt them pulse underneath his hand. “What the fuck?”

“It's no use,” Aylin said, her head bowed. “She's too strong. She's going to take that girl's body.”

“What?” Derek turned to her, breathless.

“I've been thinking about this for awhile. Faye is growing stronger. But her body doesn't hold that kind of power. It's too old and withered. She... she summoned those... those _beings_ tonight. Every one that was destroyed was part of _her,_ Derek. She's not going to be able to keep doing what she's doing with that body.”

“She's going to drain Allison and take over.”

“She's using her as a new shell.”

“I can't let her do that,” Derek said, horrified.

Aylin tilted her head. “I don't understand you, Derek.”

Derek glared. “What is there not to understand?”

“That girl... _that girl_ behind the wall? Wasn't she part of the group that killed your family?”

Derek swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“But you want to save her. And you protected _me_ when the fire broke out. You're not a fan of me either. I don't understand why you are so desperate to save people who probably don't have any interest in returning the favor.”

There was a long pause as Derek considered her statement, looking her over. “I don't really care if you don't want to help me,” he said finally, gruffly, turning back to the wall and extending his claws to scratch at it.

“Stop.” Aylin grabbed his wrist, halting him before he could start.

“Allison is being drained of everything she has. I'm not going to stand around and--”

“Derek,” Aylin said, stopping him once more with her words. She pressed his palm to the wall. “Feel.”

It pulsed under his hand, glowing around him. He furrowed his brows at the warmth of it.

“This... this is her. You cut one bit into this and she will feel it. And then your friend is dead for sure. Her heartbeat is slow, but it hasn't stopped. We need to be smart about this.”

“And your heartbeat?” Derek asked, glancing at her. Aylin's pulse was flying through her fingertips. Derek could feel it and hear it. Realizing it, she quickly wrenched her hand away, backing away from him.

“My heartbeat isn't your concern. You should have known that earlier and you should know that now.”

“It _is_ my concern.”

“No. _No._ ” Aylin shook her head. “It _isn't._ ”

“Aylin, will you not _give up_ on _everything?!_ ” Derek shouted suddenly, the words exploding from his mouth without warning and scaring her. “Your life isn't over because they're gone, okay? It may feel like everything imploded – I get that, _believe me I do._ But it's not over. Because you're not the only fucking person on this earth that's lost someone.” His heart ached at the thought. “And if you would just take a second and open your fucking eyes, you might see that there's still someone out there that _needs you_. Needs you to fight for them. To care.”

Aylin looked on the verge of tears. “Is that why you're like this? So self-sacrificing?” She pointed to the wall, where Allison resided, just behind it, quiet, unmoving. “You would rather risk your life for _her?!_ Why take on the responsibility?! Aren't you tired? Aren't you fucking exhausted of fighting and fighting and fighting for _nothing?!_ ”

“It's not nothing. She's... she's not nothing. She matters to _somebody._ To lots of people, actually. And losing someone... it's the worst feeling in the world. It's like it rips your soul from your body. And I don't wish that on anyone. So I will do whatever it takes to save her. She wasn't responsible for what her aunt did to me. Or her grandfather. And people that mean a lot to me need her. Love her. That's enough for me.”

“And me?” Aylin rubbed at one of her eyes. “I have nothing. I have no one. Why fight for me? Why bother with the heartfelt speech about saving people? I don't care about her. I don't care about the little whispered conversations you two have had every night for the past few weeks. I don't care about that kid that fucking shot at us. I don't care about the man that nearly set us on fire. I _don't care!_ About anyone!”

“You're lying,” Derek said softly, turning back to the wall. “I can hear it in your heartbeat.”

“It doesn't matter. Don't you get it? She controls us. She will use us to kill everyone we care about. One way or another, everyone you love is going to die. So why not just stop now? Quit while you're ahead? It just endangers them more to care.”

“I thought that too... once. But we are a creature that resides in packs. We work the best when we're together, and we need each other. You _know_ that.”

“I don't think the price is worth it.”

“You've never given it a chance.”

She shook her head, turning away from him. “I'm not allowed chances anymore.”

…

“What? You guys went werewolf fighting without me?” Peter feigned offense, sass included.

“Sorry, Peter,” Stiles said, flipping through files on the table.

“You're not sorry,” Peter accused.

“You're right. I hate you. I'm not sorry at all.”

“Rude.”

Lydia looked up from her book to markedly roll her eyes.

“Did you find anything?”

She gave Stiles a look again, annoyed, pointing to her bandaged throat. “I am not giving you anything long-winded,” she said, barely audible. “But I think I found something.” She held out the book at arm's length.

“So these things are part of her,” Peter said, snatching the book before Stiles had the chance, whirling around him with grace and padding over to Scott and Isaac on the sofa. “That explains that loud scream you heard when asshole burned them.”

“I'm right here,” Mr. Argent said, glaring.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I should really try to be more creative when insulting you in person. What about Shakespeare? _All's Well That Ends Well?_ ” Peter smirked, quoting, “Methink'st thou art a general offense and every man should beat thee.”

Chris returned the smirk, snarking back, “ _A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality._ I read plays in college too, you condescending prick.”

Scott made a face, looking between them. “Uhhh, can you guys _not?_ ” He turned to Isaac, chuckling. “I thought there was gonna be a sword fight or something.”

Peter ignored them. “I can't believe you guys brought _him_ along and not me. _My_ family is the one in danger.”

“Oh you mean the one remaining Hale child you _didn't kill?_ ”

“You would know all about that wouldn't you?”

“I had nothing to _do_ with that and I would've stopped it if I could!”

“Yes, your record of killing werewolves it _totally clean._ ”

“I'm standing in an apartment full of them right now and,” Chris dramatically looked around. “Still here. All of them. And my family is involved in this too. Don't dare start talking like your family is the only one on the line, because this girl has my _daughter_.”

“That doesn't give me any reason to trust you.”

“It doesn't give me any reason to trust _you_ either, yet here I am.”

Peter opened his mouth to say more, then immediately closed it, annoyed and defeated.

Boyd and Erica came bustling into the loft like they owned the place. “Guys.”

“What?” Stiles asked, spinning on his heel, energy bursting from him. “Did you guys find anything?”

“We went back to the house to explore, but we couldn't get inside.”

Stiles huffed, suddenly angry, but Boyd shut him down before he could yell.

“Look.” He held up his phone.

Stiles deflated. “What....?”

The group gathered round, looking at the photos.

“It looks like a giant treehouse or something.”

“The tree grew around it. In fact the place is entirely overgrown, like some sort of jungle. And those plant-creatures? They're surrounding it. It's a fucking army. She knows we're coming for her and she's ready for us.”

“She's not ready for shit,” Stiles breathed. “These things are part of her, right? Then if we take them down, we'll severely weaken her. If we can free Derek from the inside, he might be able to take her down before we even get inside. She wants a fight? Let's bring her one.”

“Mm, not that simple,” Lydia half-whispered, raising her hand to garner attention. “He's still under mind control. She controls him through his rage, which just happens to be his anchor.” She flinched, touching her throat gently. “So that poses a problem, obviously.”

“If I could just... if I could talk to him,” Stiles sighed. “Maybe... just maybe I could get through. I _saw_ him in the forest. I _saw him._ ”

…

“I've got to get out of here,” Derek grumbled, scanning every part of the room for a way to escape. “God damn it, how do you escape from a living, pulsing building?”

“You don't.”

“Thank you. You are _so helpful,_ ” Derek spat. “If there was a way to kill the power-” He leaned into the wall. “Allison? How are you holding up?”

He listened to her light breathing for a pause as she mustered the energy for a response. “Alive.”

“Can you _see_ anything?”

Allison took a long breath. “Lots of vines, everywhere. And the walls are glowing. Like... like they're alive.”

“Yeah. They're like that over here too. Do you see any kind of switch or anything outside of the cell?”

“N-no. Just the stairs.” A long pause. “Derek, I'm sorry for what my aunt did to you.”

“Don't talk like that, Allison. Don't.”

“Just know that if I could've stopped it... I would've.”

Derek closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the wall, listening to her thready heartbeat. “I'm sorry too... for your mother. For everything.”

She gave a sad, bitter little laugh. “We've got a lot of sins on our shoulders to be so young, hm?”

“Hang on, Allison.”

Derek pulled away from the wall, looking the bars of his cell over. “How strong is the electric shock?”

“I wouldn't recommend touching it,” Aylin sighed, looking frustrated. “You will die trying to get through.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there were _others._ ”

Derek paused. “Others?”

“Two other Omegas. They had lost everything, their packs. Faye took them as her own, used their rage to control them. They were actually siblings. Faye took a chance on controlling them because they still had each other. The brother died trying to escape.”

“And the sister?”

“You don't remember her?” Aylin bowed her head. “She begged you for help.”

“ _Please,”_ she had said. _“Please._ ”

Derek slumped against the wall, all the breath in his lungs expelling. “I don't understand. Why did Faye kill her?”

“At that point the Omega was useless. When her brother died, she didn't even have rage left in her. She completely shut down. She wouldn't fight. She wouldn't do anything. So Faye killed her to get to you.”

“Why me?”

“You're an Alpha. More power at her disposal.”

“She went after Isaac though.”

“You and him were the easiest targets. Loners. Issues with anger. I figure he was her backup plan.”

“And Scott?”

“Too difficult to control.”

“That's true I guess.” Derek sighed.

“You saw Faye kill that Omega.”

Aylin nodded. “Yeah, I did. She was young. One of the good ones.” Her eyes played on Derek for a long time, then darted to the bars of the cell.

“You cared a lot about her, didn't you?”

“She's gone now. What does it matter?”

“It matters because of you.” Derek crossed the room and put a hand on her shoulder. “Not everyone you care about is going to be taken from you. You just have to have faith in that.”

“Do you?”

Derek frowned. “I'm trying.”

Aylin lowered her eyes to the floor, chewing her lip. Then she cut her claws on Derek's chest, knocking him to the ground.

“Hey!” Derek glared up at her, but she only roared in return, baring her fangs and jumping for him. Derek scrambled out of the way, getting to his feet, ready to fight back. “What are you doing?!”

Aylin bolted for him, scratching the wall when he spun out of the way.

They fought for a few minutes, Derek irritated with the small amount of space. He didn't want to hurt her, and he really didn't understand why she was trying to hurt him in the first place. He held her by the wrists as she slashed at him.

“What is this nonsense?” Faye scoffed from the outside of the cell. Derek immediately felt anger boil in his stomach and his features shifted. “Oh stop. Otrok. Down girl.”

Otrok wailed as the red marks around her neck glowed and she stumbled away from Derek, whimpering.

“You just don't play well with others, do you?” Faye rolled her eyes. “I'm not going to have you slashing up my Alpha. A little alone time could do you some good, hm?”

Vines slid up around Aylin and violently pulled her into the ground. She came out on the other side, bruised and scratched and strung up like a puppet. Derek rushed to the front of the cell, just shy of grabbing the bars.

“Aylin--” he murmured.

She winced, and then... was she smiling at him?


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This means war.

 Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Aylin, I don't know what you're doing, but it'd be really cool if you'd fill me in,” Derek murmured, trying to keep his voice low but still hoping to get a response.

A dismembered whisper came from somewhere above. “Shhhhh.”

“So what? You expect me to just wait for you to do something?”

“Shhh, Derek. Shhh.”

He made a frustrated noise, pacing the cell. With Allison out of commission and Aylin suddenly missing, the room was too quiet. The shadows moved too discreetly. He didn't like being left alone with his thoughts. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, listening, taking in all the sounds of the building. There were soft sounds of movement from above, muffled voices that he couldn't make out, even with his werewolf ears. Whispers came from all directions, blending into a mixture of hushed sounds that didn't make words.

“What are you doing, Aylin?” he questioned more to himself than anything. “What are you up to?”

…

“Should they really be going with us?” Peter gave a disgusted look to both Chris and Stiles who were strapping up with weapons, getting ready to go.

“We're going to be a lot more useful than you, don't worry,” Chris replied with ease. “Think you can handle yourself on a full moon? Or will we have to kill you too?”

Peter crossed his arms. “No worries, I'm sure I can just come back.”

“Oh that's right, you're not an Alpha anymore. You're basically useless.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at Chris. “Please enlighten me on how that feels, because I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Will both of you shut up?” Stiles huffed. “We don't have time for arguments.”

Lydia corked a beaker, lining it up with a slew of them on the table. “Molotov cocktails extraordinaire. Perfect for taking out those plant monsters.” Her voice was still raw, but it was coming back slowly. It cracked in some places and at points would fade away, but she made the effort.

“Don't get too close,” Chris muttered to Peter with a smirk, stepping over to grab a couple.

Peter tensed, his jaw tightening as he glowered at Mr. Argent, hands squeezing into fists. He raised on to hit, but Stiles caught him by the wrist, giving a him a look with dark eyes.

“I wouldn't recommend it.”

“Pfft,” Peter scoffed. “What would you do?”

Stiles twisted Peter's arm behind his back, shoving him down into the table. He pressed a pistol to nape of Peter's neck without even taking a breath. The whole room stood silent, aghast. Chris looked a little proud.

“Something along those lines,” Stiles replied, letting him go and re-holstering his gun.

Peter looked irritated, rubbing at his sore wrist. “You left one of my arms free.”

“Didn't want to give myself too much of an advantage.” Stiles slid gloves on his hands, strapping up the velcro around his wrists. “Okay. So. We've got a bunch of werewolves on the full moon, the bare bones of a plan, and a whole bunch of weapons. Who wants to go fight?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott tried to hide the amount of pride in his voice, Peter glaring him down the entire time, but he couldn't help but be impressed.

Erica pulled her hair back, shrugging on her leather jacket. “Let's do this.”

Chris rolled the map out over the table. “Okay. This is the perimeter of the house. Here, here, and here,” he indicated, “Are the main points where her plant-creatures are located. We need to attack them at once, so timing is important. If we can burn them all simultaneously, that will open up a pathway for us to get through. She's gotten very powerful, so she'll likely have more at her disposal, so be ready for it. You'll all have bottles of Molotov cocktails. I'll also have a flamethrower, so yell out if you need help.”

“Remember, the full moon is gonna make you want to go a little haywire. Hang on to your anchor and trust yourself. Don't let yourself get bloodthirsty and sloppy,” Scott added. Then pointed to a part on the map. “Here's the main entrance. Boyd, you're going to drive the Camaro through that door.”

“Oh man, Derek is gonna be pissed about that.”

“He'll live. Hopefully.”

“Not funny,” Stiles said. “This tree, here? It's likely her lifeforce. When we get inside, spread out and try to find the core of it. If you find it, rip it apart. And blow on these.” Stiles tossed whistles to each of the combatants. “No worries, they won't kill your ears. But it'll be loud enough for werewolves _and_ humans to hear it.”

“Lydia will also be spreading mountain ash around the property to keep them from getting out. We can't risk Faye or any of her underlings attacking anyone else.”

“What about the buried hearts?”

“Unfortunately we haven't been able to locate them,” Chris sighed. “Scott found the burial sites, but the hearts are gone. Like they were never there.”

“Faye has probably absorbed them by now. We don't know what she's going to be capable of with this new power. The number one goal is to find the core. Then Allison.” Stiles spoke with an edge in his voice.

“What about Derek?” Isaac asked the loaded question.

“We stop Faye, we save Derek.” Stiles cocked his gun. “Let's go.”

…

Danny and Lydia stood behind the pack, wary.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Danny asked.

“They told us to.”

“We'll be fine,” Scott said. “Spread the ashes. Remember to cover the entire perimeter. Do _not_ break the seal under any circumstances unless we say. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

They both split, walking opposite directions, spreading ashes behind them as they walked their path. Scott watched silently, trying to calm his heartbeat. This was big. They were about to face war. He didn't know what he was going to see, what he was going to have to do. He was a little afraid of the possibilities. He felt a warm hand slide into his and he jumped, turning to look at Isaac. Who also looked terrified.

“Sorry. Just. You know. We could die.”

“Not really the attitude you need going into this, Isaac.”

“I know. But I feel like I should tell you--”

“Do you hear that?” Stiles asked, holding up a hand.

Below the rumble of the car engine and the swaying of the vines,there was a distinct _hum_.

“Is it electricity?”

“A transformer,” Stiles said, pointing up to the overgrown pole. “I think we can clear the path quicker.”

“Stiles, stick to the plan,” Scott warned, eyes glowing.

Whistles struck the sky, indicating that Danny and Lydia had met on the other side of the piano. The place had been sealed. Derek's Camaro rumbled as Boyd sat behind the wheel, white-knuckling the steering wheel. Stiles glanced at the transformer again, lifted his shotgun and shot.

“Stiles, _no._ ” Scott started, but the thing exploded in a sea of sparks.

The plant-creatures lifted their heads to the sudden noise. Then they came running.

“Shiiiit,” Isaac gasped, reaching to throw the beaker he'd been given.

“You _idiot!_ ” Peter yelled. “What part of _timing_ don't you get?!”

Chris readied his flamethrower, knocking out a few of them, but more immediately sprouted from the ground. Within seconds they were overwhelmed.

…

Derek lifted his head, ears perking to the sound of an explosion.

“Allison,” he said. “Did you hear that?”

No response. He glanced at the bars on his cell. They weren't giving off the low hum of electricity anymore. He reached gingerly toward them. When his hand clamped around the bar, he felt his heart jump a little in his chest.

He tore through the bars and immediately whirled for Allison's cell. “Allison! Allison?”

He couldn't even see her. Her cage was almost full vegetation. He pushed through anyway, eyes darting around for her. The walls pulsed, brighter than ever.

“Allison,” Derek breathed. “I know you're tired. I know you don't feel well. But I need you to give me a clue. I need to know where you are. Allison, _please_. _Please, Allison,_ I need you to do this for me.”

“D—Derek.” It was barely audible. But it was enough. Derek dove into the vines, ripping them away from her with fury in his veins. When her face finally came to his vision he almost reared back in surprise.

Allison was white as a sheet, her eyes sunken in, lips dry and crusted. Black lines ran where her veins should have been, and she could hardly hold herself up. Derek held her face in his hands, gently, terrified.

“Allison...”

She blinked slowly, her face lolling to the side, not really appearing to be aware of her surroundings.

“I'm so sorry,” he said , pulling her into his chest, closing his eyes and trying to heal her. But he didn't know what was wrong. She wasn't injured. There was nothing there to heal. “I'm gonna get you out of here. I promise.”

…

Fire bursted up toward the sky and Stiles broke through it with Scott and Isaac in tow, heading for the door.

“BOYD! GO!” Erica screamed, jumping back with Peter and Mr. Argent as the flames knocked the beasts back for a mere few seconds.

Boyd gunned it, the gas roaring as he flew through the trees, a straight shot at the door. As it blasted past, Stiles grabbed Scott by the arms, pulling him out of the way. The plant creatures started regrouping. Erica and Peter fought at tearing them down with a vengeance. Peter roared, knocking one off his back only to get attacked by another.

“We have to go back and help them,” Scott said.

“We can't,” Isaac said. “We have to keep going.”

Stiles felt guilty. He'd already fucked up their plans. But he just knew that he _had_ to do it. There was something deep in his bones that told him he had to.

“They could _die-_ ”

“I'll go back and help,” Boyd said, clambering out of the dented, destroyed Camaro, successfully having rammed through the door.

“Wait,” Stiles said. “Go to Lydia and Danny. They can cross the border of mountain ash. If you and the others can protect them, you might be able to contain the plant monsters to one place.”

“Are you dense?” Boyd argued. “I'm not dragging them into that battlefield!”

“They know what they signed up for!” Stiles yelled.

“Yeah, to spread the ashes. Nothing else!”

“Fine. Do what you want,” Stiles hissed. “I'm going in. If we break the core of her power, they'll disappear.”

“Stiles. _STILES!”_ Scott chased after. “God damn it.”

Isaac looked at Boyd, a bit apologetic. Boyd rolled his eyes. “Go. I'll see what we can do and we'll be right behind you.”

Isaac nodded, galloping after Scott on unsteady legs.

“Do me a favor though!” He yelled after Isaac. “Kick that little idiot's ass for making our lives harder!”

Meanwhile, Chris was doing everything he could to keep the beasts back. “Fuck!” He yelled, getting pulled to the ground by a vine, feeling the thorns sinking into his flesh. He shot at the hand of the creature and it wrenched away, rearing back to attack again. Peter pounced on it, ripping it to shreds.

“These things don't die!” Peter breathed, his chest heaving. “We're gonna be fighting them forever.”

Chris fell back on the ground, squeezing his eyes shut. His leg was going numb. “I didn't expect them to regenerate so quickly.”

Peter looked annoyed. “Don't start dying on me right now. I really don't have time for this.”

He grabbed Chris's ankle and his veins went dark for just a pause. Chris flexed his toes in his boot, getting back to his feet. “We've used up all our resources. We're going to get overwhelmed if we stay out here.”

Boyd came rushing up, fighting off another group of them alongside his girlfriend. “Stiles suggested we contain them. But I'm not pulling Danny and Lydia in here.”

“I can cross over the barrier,” Chris said. “Try to gather them together. I'll do what I can.”

“So you're going to run across this thing alone? Brilliant. I actually _will_ see you in Hell,” Peter argued.

“Sass me all you want, that's our option. Make an effort.”

Erica gave a look to Peter as soon as Chris took off.

“I really _really_ don't like him,” Peter growled. Then sighed. “Hey! Come and get me!”

…

Derek carried Allison in his arms, trying to figure out where the hell the exit was to the place. He could see the stairs, but they were completely overgrown and the room had transformed, disorienting him.

“She's gotten so powerful...” he murmured.

“It's the full moon,” Allison coughed. “You won't be able to keep her out of your head.”

Derek didn't deny that he could hear voices in his head. “What did she do to you?”

She was marked up in black, like she'd been tattooed up and down her arms. Black veins sprouted from the markings.

“I don't know,” Allison wheezed. “I feel like she's sucked the life out of me.”

The wall moved. Derek jumped, holding Allison closer. Aylin stumbled through the rubble, parting from the bark that had swarmed around it.

“She's distracted. You don't have long. You're lucky your friends showed up when they did.”

“Aylin-- what did you do?”

She smiled at him... sadly. “Everything I could. Come on.”

She led them into a corridor that was way too dark for Derek's liking. He could still see with his superhuman abilities, but he didn't like the idea of not being aware of his surroundings.

“You need to get as far away from here as possible, understand? The further you get, the less likely she will be able to control you. Lay low until I can destroy the core of her lifeforce, and you'll be back to your senses.”

Derek stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Aylin started up the steps. “What do you mean _what?_ ”

“You're acting like I'm okay with that.”

“Derek, if you want to save you friends, you have to save yourself first.” She popped open the wooden doors to the outside.  
The fresh air hit Derek's nose, sweet-smelling and overwhelming with plant-life. And smoke. He could smell the charred remains of _something_.

“No, Aylin. I'm not running away from this fight.”

Aylin pursed her lips. “Don't you get it? Soon she'll catch on to where I am. She won't be distracted forever. She will have both of us kill. Derek, you won't be able to stop this. Not right now. Let your friends fight for you.”

“No.”

“You can't take her with you if you want to fight. You have to save her or save the others.”

“Help me, Aylin,” Derek pleaded. “Help me heal her, give her strength to fight.”

“It'll play into Faye's hands. If Allison has any power left in her don't think for a second that she won't take it from her. Allison needs to be as far away from here as possible.”

“How do you know all this?”

“She's been keeping me in animal form upstairs. I was in a tiny cage, but I managed to get free when the electricity went out. She's been fighting off your buddies.”

Derek listened to the sounds of battle.

“She's winning, Derek. She will win. You need to be away from here when she does.”

“Where is her life force?”

“Somewhere in the house. I don't know where.”

“I'll take the risk,” Allison gasped, reaching for Aylin's hand. “Please. I want to help.”

Aylin stared her down.

“Please,” Allison said. “ _Please._ ”

Aylin grimaced like her heart was breaking. She pushed a little hair out of Allison's face, closing her eyes and doing what she could. Allison managed to get onto her feet, but she looked pretty wobbly. Derek felt uncertainty in his chest, but he swallowed it.

Allison kicked her heel on the floor, popping a knife from her boot. She carefully extracted it and held it in her hand. “Not much, but it'll have to do.” When the moonlight hit her she look relieved, like she was soaking in it's power. “I'm actually starting to feel pretty good.”

“Aylin. Why are you doing this?” Derek had to ask.

“Because... because you're one of the good ones. And that matters to me.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things you do for the people you love.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Woah.” Isaac took a breath, halting in the middle of the foyer of the huge place, looking around. “I'm pretty sure this is what the Tree of Life looks like in the Lion King.”

Scott's sneakers squeaked against the floor as he stopped to look at Isaac like he was nuts. “Seriously, Isaac?”

“Where the hell do we go? There aren't any doors. It's all overgrown.”

The entire place pulsed with a dismembered heartbeat, glowing around them.

“Feel it out,” Stiles said softly, eyes carefully making their way around the room. “I'll take the stairs. You guys spread out and search the bottom level.”

They nodded, splitting apart. Stiles crept up the stairs, shotgun readied, senses on overdrive. In the confines of the house, everything was so hushed, so quiet. It was deafening and disconcerting. He was waiting for anything to jump out at him. He ducked behind a nearby wall, sliding a mirror out of his pocket and checking around the corner for threats. Nothing?

It was too suspicious. They had infiltrated. Why wasn't Faye doing anything? They hadn't exactly entered quietly. He glanced back at the front door, busted in, splinters of wood littering the floor. He figured he might as well keep moving.

…

“They're probably fine. Probably.” Melissa tried. She wasn't very good at being optimistic.

Sheriff Stilinski drummed his fingers on the desk, staring down his cell phone, waiting for a call. “So you're telling me that my son hasn't been hanging out with yours after school. And you don't know where either of them are right now?”

“But they are also probably fine.” Melissa cringed. She remembered being a better liar. But John Stilinski had a face on him that made it really hard to lie. Like, she didn't know how Stiles dealt with the _guilt_ because she felt like shit. Maybe he just learned to tune it out.

“ _Melissa._ ”

“Hey, don't take that tone with me. I'm not your son, Stilinski.”

“I know that. But you also seem to be a little privy to where he might be. Or at least where he's been going after school. You want to fill me in? I'm getting a little tired of everyone holding information on me.”

Melissa put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Shine a bright light in my face? Play good-cop-bad-cop? Don't start that _Law and Order_ stuff on me, John. Don't you do it.”

Stilinski held tight for just a moment, his eyes intense and mad. But then his lip quirked. And then he started laughing. Melissa smiled.

“Damn it, Melissa.”

“You could never bad-cop me.”

“You're right, I couldn't. You'd cute your way right out of it.”

Melissa blushed up the back of her neck. _He thinks you're cute, Melissa._ What a schoolgirl-esque thought. She shook it out of her head, sitting on the edge of the desk with a sigh.

“Okay. I'll be honest. Stiles has been learning... er... self-defense.” Okay, that was honest enough.

“Oh Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski sighed, rubbing at his temples. “It gets worse, doesn't it?”

“Do I have to tell you about it? Can we just trust our children this one time?”

“Not if they end up dead, Melissa.”

“Which is probably why they didn't tell me where they were going.” She crossed her legs, feeling a little annoyed herself at the situation. “Should we go look for them?”

“Oh, but didn't you say they were _probably fine? Probably?”_ Stilinski raised his eyebrows at her as he stood, circling the desk to grab his keys off the hook. “I know you think Scott won't let anything happen to Stiles, but he's just a kid--”

“And Stiles won't let anything happen to Scott. You forgot that part where your son is just like you?” She met him in the doorway, and they were standing just a hair too close, breathing just a little too much of the same air to be comfortable. “If we want to find them, we have to know where to look.” Melissa's voice came quieter than she expected.

“I have a good starting point,” the Sheriff suggested, half-smiling at her.

…

“I really hate this a lot. Agh!” Peter ducked under the slash of Faye's demented little beast, tangled in a mass of vines and stems and leaves and dirt. And they were closing in tighter and tighter as the mountain ash held them in their spots. Peter shielded his face from attack. “You gonna keep me in here too, Argent?”

“I could,” he said, reaching through the vines and tugging Peter out by his shirt and dropping the rest of the ash on the ground. “Just a casual reminder that I could.”

Peter looked over his shoulder at the monsters, standing in their tiny circle, hissing and seething at him, but unable to do a thing. He laughed.

“Ha, serves you right. Little bastards.” He wiped the blood away from his face.

Then they all went silent, grabbing hands and closing their eyes. Peter's smile faded. “What are they doing?”

“Go help the others,” Chris commanded, holding his flamethrower up to attack. “Go!”

Erica and Boyd didn't have to be told twice. They took off running. Peter froze, watching as the limbs tangled together, morphing and hardening. Roots began to explode from the ground, tripping both Chris and Peter. The creatures gave out a banshee shriek, too high pitched, too loud to ignore, and they rocketed toward the sky, a giant tree forming from their bodies. Chris shot flames at them, but to no avail. It burned out against the weight of the bark.

“Shit.”

“You really think a little mountain ash is going to stop my minions?” The disembodied voice echoed through the forest and Peter's eyes darted around, searching for the source. “Foolish indeed. So nice to finally meet you, Peter.”

Peter yelped as a root tangled around his torso and pulled him into the ground. Chris reached for his hand but it slipped from his fingers. He heard Peter Hale's roar throughout the forest. He stood, drawing his guns, fear pricking his senses. He ran for the house. The trees and plants shifted and sprang from their place, attacking him. He kept moving. Standing still would be suicide. The door was so close. If he could just get inside. If he could just--

Spikes shot from the ground and Chris screamed out, one slicing through his boot and his foot. He stumbled, trying to stay up and not get gutted by the lot of them, but he'd been slowed down.

“Come out and fight me for real!” He commanded. “ _COME ON!_ ”

“What's there to fight for, hm?”

Chris whirled around to see his daughter standing against one of the trees, looking so beautiful and innocent in the moonlight.

“You've got nothing left,” she said.

“Allison...” Chris wiped the mixture of sweat and blood from his brow. He couldn't be seeing things right. She was too far away, too blurry.

“You don't believe it, do you?” she said, smiling wistfully, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear.

“You're not her,” Chris said darkly.

“Of course not. She's already dead.” Her eyes glowed green and Chris fired at her. She dodged easily. “But don't worry. Gone but not forgotten, right?”

“What did you do with Peter?”

“I need him for a little experiment s'all. Why don't you go home, Mr. Argent? This game? It's out of your league.”

He shot at her again, trying to figure out why the hell he was so dizzy all of the sudden. He missed by a long shot, the bullet lodging in a nearby tree. Allison's face shifted into Kate's, except as she got closer, little details were off, no longer perfectly tuned. Kate's features were too sharp, her skin too pale, and her eyes still glowed.

“You know, I always found it fascinating how much some fathers would do for their _family_.”

She lifted her hand, ready to strike, when a knife collided with her arm. She yelped, enraged, turning to her attacker.

“Dad!” Allison yelled, standing there in the trees, completely unarmed. Faye charged her and she began running.

Chris went running too. There was no way in hell they were getting his daughter. Never again. She was all he had left. He wouldn't lose her too.

…

“Are you sure it's okay to let her go alone?”

“She's stubborn,” Derek said, climbing up the side of the house. “Besides, like you said, she's not any safer with us when Faye gets word we escaped. Allison will find her dad.”

“Derek.”

“Hm?”

He looked down at Aylin trailing behind him. “You need a hand?”

She nodded a little shakily, reaching for his. He pulled her through a window. “You're slower than usual. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Aylin said.

“Why are we in here?” Derek looked around the dusty room worriedly.

“Because of these.” Aylin threw open a chest full of scrolls, digging through them. “I know this chest because it used to reside in my home. My parents had a lot of old spells hidden away in the case that the fairies turned on us. Unfortunately they were too trusting and let her get too close. But I knew Faye would keep these.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs to know what she's up against before she can come up with proper defense. This is the one.” She pulled one out, turned, then screamed.

Derek whirled, stumbling back as branches broke through the wall. He grabbed Aylin and pushed her to the floor, ducking just under a sharp spike of a branch, red flowers blooming right in front of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Derek breathed. Aylin's eyes were watering a little but she nodded.

“We gotta go.” She made a breathless sound, reaching for her neck. Derek's started stinging too.

They ran for the door, busting through the bark and toppling onto the floor in a heap. “Is it just me or are the walls getting thicker?” Derek asked, looking over his shoulder to see the hole they'd made quickly closing back over.

“The moon is getting higher in the sky. We don't have long.” Aylin skimmed the scroll as she got to her feet. “...I was right...” she murmured.

“About what?”

Aylin grabbed his hand and stalked down the hallway, dragging him behind her.

“Aylin, talk to me. You haven't told me anything.”

“Please just... have faith,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You told me to do so. Trust me.”

…

Scott toppled down the steps, ripping vines away with his claws. He was in some sort of cellar or something. He could see the remnants of some sort of jail in the pulsating glow of the walls. He stepped lightly, cautiously, claws readied. The pull of the moon was itching in the base of his skull as he moved, lifting dangerously higher in the sky. He held steady, circling the room, feeling the walls for a sign of anything. He paused, smelling the air. It smelled like.

“Allison,” he said, turning.

He froze, staring at a torn mixture of vines, lying still in a puddle of blood. _No._ He walked slowly, dropped to his knees, touching the drying brown spill with his fingers with tears in his eyes. Was she dead? Could she really be dead? He saw no other sign of her, other than the fact that her scent was everywhere and her blood was on the floor. He slid a finger over the vines in her blood, following them, trying to swallow his heartbreak in hopes of finding her alive. The idea of her being killed without him there to protect her was not keeping his more wolf-like thoughts at bay. He traced it along the wall and then down, down, down, to the floor, where it was buried. The vine glowed and the ground pulsed under his feet.

Scott pulled the whistle out of his shirt, strung around his neck, and pressed it to his lips. He blew. And he started digging.

…

Allison screamed as the vines lashed at her skin, pulling her off the ground and into the air.

“You bitch! How did you escape?”

Allison swung at her, but the vines held her still. Chris slashed at the vines with a knife, desperate, calling out for her with pain in his voice. “Allison! _Allison!_ Let her go. _Please_ let her go.”

“No matter,” Faye said, ignoring him as she floated right at Allison's face, still taking on the false, unacceptable mask of her aunt. “The full moon is high. The hearts have been buried. The only thing I've been lacking... _is you._ ”

Allison blinked back tears, listening to her dad cry out for her. “Dad... Dad, it's okay,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “It's okay.”

“The moon makes you so much prettier,” Faye said, stroking her face almost lovingly. “So much stronger. Say goodbye to him. I'll let you do that. _Say it._ ”

Allison closed her eyes, tears playing on her cheeks. “Goodbye... goodbye.”

Vines closed around her, cocooning her, and she could no longer see. She could only hear...

Her dad screamed out, thrashing at the vines. She could feel them shift under his hands. She closed her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

A whistle blew, high and loud, echoing in her ears, and she could feel him with her, Scott. She could feel his hands sinking into the dirt, the desperation in his breath, the whispers of her name. _Scott?_ Allison felt her body drifting away, darkness creeping into her vision, and she was gone.

…

Stiles butted away one of the plant monsters with his gun, rushing through the upstairs halls, heart pounding in his ears. They had burst from the walls like fucking _daisies_ and they were everywhere, chasing him. This was not going according to plan. Not at all. Nope. Nope. Nope. They were swarming him. He yelled, toppling over the banister, seeing the marble floor coming way too close to meeting him.

Someone grabbed his ankle. Stiles gasped, twisting to point his gun at the person in question. He lowered it.

“Derek?”

Derek roared as the plant beasts slashed at him. Otrok barreled through a few of them, knocking them to the ground. Derek wrenched Stiles upward, pulling him over the banister and curling over him.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, tasting his name in his mouth, clinging to him. “Where did all these things come from?! I thought they could only grow outside!”

“Yeah, well, Faye's gotten her hands on some power since then.” Derek winced, holding at his neck. “Get going!”

“What about you?”

“You _know_ about me, Stiles. Get lost before I hurt you! I---” Derek gritted his teeth. “I don't have as much control... under... the moon...”

“You won't...” Stiles murmured. “Derek, you won't hurt me...”

“I already have!” Derek cried out, eyes glowing red. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Stiles blinked back tears, scrambling for the stairs, a whistle piercing his ear. He breathed. “It'll all be over soon, I promise! I promise!”

“Wait!” Otrok yelled. “ _Wait!_ ”

But Stiles was already at the bottom of the steps, plant life engulfing them and shielding him from view.

…

“Scott! _Scott!_ Isaac yelled out, leaping from the cellar steps as spikes bursted through the walls, slicing at his skin. He rolled, looking back at the door. Red Wolfsbane was creeping down the walls.

Erica and Boyd came toppling down after him.

“Over here,” Scott said softly.

Isaac immediately smelled the blood in the room, rushing over. “We're trapped, Scott. She's got us surrounded--”

“I think I might have found it. Help me dig.” Scott was scratching at the dirt, his pupils blow wide, his breath shallow. All around the walls were red flowers, blooming and puffing pollen throughout the room.

“Scott--”

“Help me _dig, ISAAC!_ ” Scott roared, flashing red eyes at him. He was clawing at bare ground. “I have to save her. I have to save her.”

“Scott--” Erica started, stumbling behind Isaac. “Scott, you're hallucinating. _Scott._ ”

Isaac grabbed Scott by the arm and yanked him up. He struggled against him, claws slashing at Isaac's skin.

“I don't want to fight you, Scott. I really don't want to fight you.”

“Allison!” Scott screamed out. “ _ALLISON!_ ”

Boyd took a fighting stance. Erica did too. “We don't want to hurt you, Scott, but we will if we have to.”

“We're going to be in the same state if we stay here too long,” Isaac huffed, tying his scarf around his face. “Scott. I need you to focus.” He grabbed him by the shoulders. “ _SCOTT._ ”

The anger in Scott's eyes faded a little as he stared Isaac down.

“We gotta go find Allison, Scott. She's not here.”

“Her life force-- Faye's...”

“There's nothing here, Scott!” Isaac pulled him close, a spike exploding from the ground where he'd been. “We gotta get out, now!”

He looked to Boyd and Erica, their eyes glowing. He could feel the Wolfsbane starting to take effect. He scanned the room, panic rising in his chest, when he saw... an opening!

“There!” He pointed. “Someone must have broken through there already.”

“If it can be done once, it can be done twice,” Erica said, ripping at the vines. Boyd dug in, too. Scott leaned into Isaac's chest, breathing heavily onto him.

“I-- I think she's dead, Isaac. I think she's dead.”

Isaac squeezed Scott against him, pressing his lips to his hairline, not caring about how it looked or if Scott noticed or anything. “It's okay, Scott. It's all gonna be okay.”

…

Derek gasped, vines tangling around his legs as the monsters pulled him. He reached out for Aylin, who was still fighting her own. They wrenched him away from her. She screamed out for him, reaching back, before getting engulfed. Derek's vision went black for just a moment and then he was being dropped onto the floor, looking up at the stars in the sky through the gaps of the tree.

“You've been slipping.”

Derek felt her voice like a punch to the gut. “I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen again.”

Derek lifted his head, even though he didn't want to, and he saw Laura, glaring him down. At her feet, tangled in vines, was his uncle.

“Don't you want to kill him, Derek? For what he did to me? _Don't you?!_ ”

Peter sputtered against the floor, spitting blood. “Derek... Derek, don't.”

“He took me away from you,” Laura whispered, leaning in front of him, brushing a hand through his hair, down his jaw. “The only one you had left. He took me away.”

Her thumb slid over the tear slipping down his cheek.

“Don't you want to kill him?”

“I did.... He came back,” Derek breathed, his head swimming. “I became the Alpha...”

“Don't let him walk the planet, Derek. Don't.”

“Derek,” Peter cried out, gurgling. “Derek, _I'm sorry._ _Derek._ ”

Laura slid a hand over Derek's neck, the markings around it tingling and burning. But he didn't flinch. He stared down Peter, feeling cold. He stood slowly, pushing Laura's hand away and stepping toward him.

“Sorry? You're _sorry?!_ You killed the only family we had left. Why shouldn't I do the same to you?”

“I came here to _save you_ ,” Peter whispered, flinching against his restraints. “Don't... don't be consumed by your hatred, Derek. Not for me. Not for Kate. We're not worth it. We're not fucking _worth it_.”

“Give me his heart, Derek,” Laura said softly, slipping her arms around him, leaning into his back. “Dear brother.... I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“Every day.... I think about you every day...”

“Derek, she's _gone!_ ” Peter said, his voice raw and pained. “Derek, _let her go!_ ”

“Never.” Laura spoke. “Don't ever let me go. You _need_ me.”

Derek wailed, the pain twisting through his veins. He collapsed to his knees, screaming, his heart pounding in his ears. His vision started to swim, and he just kept hearing Laura's voice, feeling her soft hand on his back. And he was so _angry._ She had meant so much to him... so much... and she was gone. He wasn't just angry at Peter. He was angry at himself for letting her go back to Beacon Hills alone. He was angry at her for leaving him to fight for it all by himself, just like his parents. He didn't want to be by himself...

“Faye, stop!” Aylin yelled.

Derek could feel the markings sliding down his arms and legs, covering him, taking away his limbs' ownership. He opened his eyes to see her pulling Peter free, then screaming and falling to the floor, writhing in pain.

“You have been _particularly_ disobedient,” Faye hissed, stepping away from Derek.

“I'll show you disobedient,” Peter growled, attacking her. She fought him with ease, tangling him in her vines.  
Aylin rushed to Derek's side, putting her hands on his back. “Derek, you have to let her go.”

“I _can't_ ,” Derek said softly.

“You have to. You have to let her go. Know that she's at peace, Derek. Know that she loved you. Let that be enough.”

“But I could have helped her-- I could have--”

“Listen to me. You need to let her _go._ _Please_ , Derek. Think of Stiles.”

“Stiles...” Derek echoed.

“You have to forgive. You have to move on. You have people you need to protect now. You can't stay in the past, Derek.”

“Aylin,” Derek whimpered, falling apart. “She was... she was my sister. They were my family. I can't... how can I let them go?!”

“Because you love them. Remember your love for them. Not the hate that took them away from you.”

Derek's mind filled with images of Stiles, like a film. He could see him laughing, the little twitch in his eyebrow when he got angry. He could see how his Adam's Apple bobbed in the throws of ecstasy, the long curve of his neck and fingers. He could feel the callouses against his skin, the soft hushed breaths from his lips. The way he wrapped his entire body around Derek, like he was too afraid to let him go. The way his fingers laced so perfectly in his palm. His voice.

His voice. _We're okay, Derek. We're okay._

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stiles standing in the doorway where Aylin had entered, looking bruised and beaten and scared to death.

“Derek!” He cried out. “Derek, I love you.”

The pain dissolved off of his skin. The horrible memories in his mind fogged, still there but not so stark. Aylin tangled her arms around him, pressing her face into his back.

“He loves you,” she whispered. “He loves you. He loves you. They all love you, Derek. We all love you, Derek.”

“Aylin...” Derek said, trying to turn to look at her, but she held tightly, her skin glowing against his. He looked to Stiles, who stood, frozen in place, his face drawn in horror.

Aylin slumped off of him, breathing harshly. Derek rolled her over, looking her in the eye. “Aylin, what did you do--”

She smiled, tears rolling out of her deep blue eyes. “You're one of the good ones, Derek.” She touched his cheek, weakly. “Never forget that.”

Faye screeched, heading for Aylin's weak body, but Derek stopped her, throwing her into the wall. Stiles tackled her, pressing a gun into her skull. His hand shook. Because when Laura's features faded away, Allison's remained, perfectly pristine and very much her.

“No...” Stiles whispered.

Aylin pushed herself onto her hands and knees, red markings distorting her features. “It stays... in the bones. This hate....”

Her fangs grew. Her claws slid from her fingertips and she flexed her hand, her eyes rolling upwards so only the whites of them showed.

“Dereeekkk,” Peter yelled in warning just before Aylin attacked, blinded, completely not herself.

Allison smirked. “Can't shoot me, can you?” She kicked Stiles off of her, getting to her feet. “Derek, darling. You could have been so great.”

“Aylin. _Aylin!_ ” Derek jumped out of the way of her claws as she attacked, growing more and more beast-like by the second.

“She won't hear you, Derek,” Allison said easily. “That spell doesn't just go away. She had to take it on all by herself. She is only my beast now. Otrok. _Slave._ ”

“She's _gone_ , Derek!” Peter yelled. “Kill her before she kills us!”

Derek backed up slowly, his heart hurting. No. He couldn't do it. She hadn't even had a chance at living a real life. He couldn't let her be responsible for taking on what he'd been dealt. He searched for her in the blood red eyes before him as the claws slashed into his skin.

“Aylin, please. _Please,_ ” he begged. But there was no sign of her. None. “ _AYLIN!_ ” She slashed at him again and he spat blood. She was going to kill him. She was gone. She was going to--

A bullet blasted into her back and she howled, falling back, scratching at her skin as it blackened from the impact point. Another one was delivered immediately. And another. And another. Derek watched in horror as she flopped away from him, screaming and screeching while the poison swam through her veins.  
And then she fell to the ground, unmoving.

“I'm sorry, Derek.”

Derek looked up at Stiles, his finger still on the trigger, still pointed at the limp, lifeless body of his friend.

“I'm sorry... I didn't have a choice.”


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing endings.

 Chapter Thirty

Derek stared at Aylin's body in silence. His breath was a roar in his ears as he stared, unmoving, haunted by her figure, swimming in black-cherry blood, contorted and twisted in pain, the life gone from her eyes.

He turned to Stiles in a breath, eyes wide and pleading for an answer, because... because Stiles wasn't a _killer._ He wasn't.

“She was going to kill you,” Stiles said, and his voice was low in his chest. “I had to.”

“She was useless anyway. All that rage made her so powerful and then _you_ came along,” Faye rolled her eyes, looking to Derek, her voice still too-much Allison for Derek to feel comfortable. “Then again, I guess you could say the same about yourself and Little Red Riding Hood over here. Tamed the big bad wolf only to become the hunter. You should be proud.”

Stiles's shot at Faye and she jumped in the air, somersaulting and landing back on her feet, near Derek. She immediately wrapped him up in thorny vines, tearing at his skin and making him flinch. Stiles lowered his gun.

“Let him go, Faye.”

“I've had him this long. Why stop now?”

“What did you do to Allison?!” Derek commanded, thrashing against his restraints.

“That's _actually_ Allison, isn't it?” Stiles muttered. “I knew it.”

“See, Derek, think about it.” Faye slithered a hand around his neck, pulling him close. “Look at the little fellow that came bustling in here to save you. Perfectly willing to shoot a werewolf to save you but not to do the same with a human body? I'd be worried if I were you.”

Derek glanced at Aylin's corpse, then back to Stiles. “Stiles. Get out of here.”

“What?”

“Get _out._ Take Peter and go.”

Peter was finally clawing his way down from the wall, dusting himself off. “We're not leaving. And honestly, I'm not really bothered at the idea of killing this girl, so.” Peter flexed his claws and ran for her.

“No, Peter!” Stiles yelled, chasing after him, but he was not nearly fast enough. Battle was already ensuing. Stiles stumbled a little, watching them fight. “He's gonna kill her.”

“He can't kill her. Her life force is somewhere else,” Derek said, tugging at the vines holding him still. “He'll only kill Allison's body. Now let me go so I can stop him.”

Stiles pulled a knife from his boot and started sawing vines off of Derek. “Did they have Wolfsbane in them?”

“I don't think so.” Derek landed on his feet, roaring. “ _PETER STOP!_ ”

Peter pushed Allison's body into the wall, claws sinking into her neck. “Tell me why the fuck I should?! She's been nothing but trouble!” His eyes glowed blue and he growled, blinking back visions. Derek took the opportunity to pull him away.

“It's not _her._ ”

“Not her body, maybe, but definitely her _mind._ And that's the part I want to rip out of that pretty little head.”

Allison started cackling, sinking into the bark of the wall. “And the unrest continues! You know what they always say – the best way to kill someone is to get someone to do it for you.”

Peter ran at the wall but she was gone before he could get his claws in her.

“Did you see anything?”

Peter shook his head, his jaw tight. “As soon as I sunk my claws in her neck she started playing memories of mine – the fire, mostly. Just to fuck with me.” He breathed. “God damn it. Why didn't you just let me kill her?!”

“It wouldn't have worked. You can't kill Faye that way – only Allison. And she might still be in there if we can knock out Faye's life force,” Stiles said, stepping between them.

“And if she's not?” Peter argued, raising his eyebrows at Stiles.

“Then she's not. Either way. Killing that form won't solve anything. I heard Scott's whistle before Otrok brought me up here--”

“Aylin,” Derek corrected coldly. “Her name is-- _was_ Aylin.”

He walked over to her, gently lifting her body off the ground and holding her in his arms. He bowed his head in silence for her, the girl that was consumed by hate. The girl that had reminded him to love. The girl that he saw himself in. His friend. He wished her final moments hadn't been filled with hate. He wished that she had been allowed to experience joy again. She had so much to give...

“Derek...” Stiles said softly, broken. “Derek, I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” he said gently, looking her in the face. “I'm sorry too.”

“Look, this is all really touching and everything, but that crazy fairy knows we're here and just fused into the wall, so pardon me if I don't want to get busy _killing her_ before she does it to us? She dragged me in here. Left the lone Argent very much – er-- _lone._ So we should get going.”

Derek set her down against the wall, wiping some of the blood from her face and closing her lids. He brushed some of the hair out of her eyes, then stood, stoic.

“Her life force is somewhere in this tree, you said?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied “Somewhere.”

“She's not going to have it in the open. She's going to have it protected somewhere. It might be under ground. When I was held in her basement the walls pulsed much more strongly.”

“Closer to the heart.”

“Exactly.”

“But why was there no Wolfsbane in those vines? Seemed like the perfect opportunity...” Peter furrowed his brows.

“She's in a body she isn't used to inhabiting. Maybe she has to get to a certain point before she can use her abilities freely. Maybe she had to concentrate the Wolfsbane elsewhere?”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

The three stumbled as the house shook giving out a loud groan. Derek held Stiles steady, dropping to a knee as the ceiling collapsed. Peter ducked down next to them, squeezing his eyes shut as plaster rained down on them and bricks exploded away. Then, silence.

…

Isaac dragged Scott to the new found door, even though he was thrashing at him. “Scott,” Isaac said, making a frustrated noise in his throat. “Scott, get it _together man._ ”

“I _swear_ I heard her! I heard her, Isaac! She's here!”

“Scott, _Scott,_ you're _hallucinating._ ”

He pulled Scott up the steps as Erica and Boyd threw open the doors to the outside. The cold fresh air hit Isaac like a ton of bricks. He basically threw Scott out the door, clambering out behind him and slamming the doors shut. The house let out a loud groan, branches bursting through the top of it, spreading out into the night sky, casting the entire place in the darkness of its shade. Roots slid under Isaac's feet, rumbling the ground.

“Woah...”

Erica and Boyd laced their fingers together, gawking as the tree just grew and grew and grew, slithering around the branches of the others, growing together into one gigantic dome.

“We're trapped.”

“I don't know about you but I'm getting a little tired of all the tricks up this girl's sleeve,” Erica huffed.

Scott kept his hands on the ground, eyes darting as he felt the pulsations.

…

“Can't believe we missed them,” Sheriff Stilinski said, rolling up the map on the table in Derek's loft. “Also can't believe they left the door unlocked in this part of town. I know I taught Stiles better than that.”

“Pretty sure they could handle basic muggers. At least we know where they're going. Out into an abandoned neighborhood, probably littered with crime and evil supernatural beings and stuff.”

Sheriff Stilinski stared Melissa down, deadpanning, “Enjoy this more, Melissa, please.”

She smiled at him. “I'm just saying that we don't know as much about this as they do and we might want to trust their instinct.”

“My son almost _died._ ”

Melissa nodded slowly, her smile fading. “I know.”

He shook his head, leaning on the table. “I trust his instinct. I actually do. He's always been incredibly bright. But he's always been so emotional about things. He runs into things without thinking. He's so afraid of losing people that he's willing to risk his own skin every time. I feel like that's partially my fault.”

“He does take after you in that respect. That's the problem with those heroic types.” She patted him on the shoulder, heading for the door. “Come on.”

After a moment, they headed down the stairs. “I know I suck at saying things, sometimes,” Melissa started, feeling guilty for chiding him earlier.

“Actually,” Stilinski replied, opening the car door for her, giving her a look that she couldn't read. “I think you're better at it than you think.”

…

“Go go go go _GO!_ ” Stiles yelled as the floor began collapsing on them. Derek and Peter didn't have to be told twice, stumbling for the stairs. Branches and spikes hindered them, shooting through what was left of the walls and the floor. Derek yelped, wrapping an arm around Stiles's torso and pulling him out of the way just in time. He fell back against the wall and grunted at the red flowers bloomed against his skin. Stiles pulled him away by his shirt.

“They're everywhere!” Peter roared, fighting off one of Faye's minions. It lifted it's hand with a red-flowered palm and blew dust in Peter's face. “Agh!”

He toppled over, squinting his eyes and scratching at his face in offense.

“Uncle Peter,” Derek asked. “You okay?”

He wiped the darkening blood from under his nose. “Maybe.” The vine-like hands of the creature shifted and sharpened, heading for Peter's shoulder. He rolled out of the way.

Derek tried to fight them off, but more were growing, surrounding him. “God damn it!”

Stiles blasted bullets into a few, knocking a few more back with the butt of his gun. “They're coming from above!”

Stiles was right. The creatures were growing from the branches above them. And it was a fucking army.

“We are going to die, aren't we?” Peter sighed, looking almost amused at the idea, like he didn't really have any anger left in him.

“Seems like a possibility.”

Stiles dropped his gun, reaching in one of his packs and yanking out a bola, swinging it and throwing it at some of the monsters, knocking them to the ground, entangled in the rope. He yanked two guns from the holsters on his shoulders and began firing. They screeched and screamed as the bullets made contact.

“Lydia concentrated some of her special glitter stuff in these bullets,” Stiles explained. “Play ball, boys.”

He dove in, elbowing and kicking, fighting them down to the floor so he could shoot at them. Peter and Derek stood still, staring.

“This is not the Stiles I know,” Derek said, awed.

“He might actually be able to keep up with you now.”

“I'm not going to ask what you mean by that. He's gonna run out of bullets.”

Stiles had already reloaded his clip, pummeling down a group of them with dark, intense eyes.

“I hate being outshined,” Peter complained. “These humans are getting far too entertaining for my taste.”

“Yeah? Get used to it.”

Derek and Peter whirled on the spot to see Chris Argent limping into the room, holding his arm, blood dripping from the edge of his sleeve. “They keep dropping...” He was in worse shape than he was letting on. Derek could hear the low beat of his heart, the harshness in his breaths.

“I'm gonna run out of ammo at this rate!” Stiles warned, dodging one and shooting it in the head. “Will one of you idiots quit standing there and _kill the girl controlling them_?! Jesus fucking Christ.” One went for Stiles's head and Derek saw red, tackling it to the ground.

“So I'm gonna go find the core, I guess,” Peter said, a little lethargically, smearing blood away from his nose. “No complaints? Okay.”

…

“I can feel it,” Scott said softly. “Her heart.”

“Who, Allison's?”

“No. Faye's.” Scott flattened himself against the ground, pressing his ear to it and listening... listening... “We have to go back down there.”

“What? No! Scott, you were hallucinating--”

“Yeah, I was, but her life force is _still_ down there! She had Allison in that cell for a reason. She was using Allison to power it. We have to go back and dig.”

“You could die down there. It's too dangerous.”

“We'll never stop her from out here!”

“How far down do we have to dig? Can we dig here?” Erica cut in. “Like dig down and then over?”

“It'd take forever.”

“Do you hear gunshots?” Erica glanced toward the building.

“They're coming from inside,” Boyd replied.

“Give me your scarf,” Scott demanded.

Isaac reached for it, looking like he desperately wanted to tell him _no_ , like it was attached to his skin or something. Scott wasn't positive if it was because Isaac didn't want him to go or because he didn't want Scott to take his scarf. Maybe a little of both.

“Let me go, Scott.”

“No.”

“But Scott--”

“Can you two stop sacrificing yourselves for each other?” Erica snapped. “We don't have time for you two to be arguing over who gets to die first. Because in a few minutes, we're all going to be dead. Look!” She pointed upwards to the dome of branches, and they could all see and smell the Red Wolfsbane, blooming all over, giving the branches a hue of blood. Isaac gulped, handing his scarf over to Scott.

“Scott, if you die...”

“I won't. Have a little faith in me, hm?” Scott wrapped the scarf around his face and headed back for the basement.

Isaac's shoulders drooped. “That's kind of my problem.”

…

“What the hell?” Sheriff Stilinski stomped the brakes, the tires squealing. “What the fuck is that, _Bio-Dome?_ ”

“Something like it,” Melissa remarked, stepping out of the the police cruiser and slamming the door.

“Ms. McCall? Sheriff Stilinski? What are you guys doing here?” Danny asked, looking on edge. He and Lydia had been leaning against his Yaris, staring at the scene before them.

“Where's Scott?” Melissa asked in unison with Stilinski's, “Where's Stiles?”

Lydia and Danny turned to look at the big, wooded dome.

“Figures,” Stilinski sighed. “How do we get in?”

“I wouldn't recommend that,” Danny said quietly. “The place is crawling with creepy plant monsters.”

“Even better,” Stilinski groaned. “How do we stop them?”

“They were kind of in the process of that.” Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder, gazing at the dome with a worried expression. “It got really quiet when the plants overgrew...”

“Quiet is never good.”

…

Scott found digging to be a lot harder when holding his breath, but he kept at it as much as he could. The breaths he took were hollow, and made his vision swim and eyes water. He was surrounded by Faye's awful red, flowery concoction, forcing the thirst for blood in his chest down. He had to keep going. He had to keep going. He had to...

Scott's vision started to black out and he toppled over on his side, exhausted. He could feel the earth pulsing just under his hand, but he couldn't bring himself to dig anymore. He just couldn't do it. His body was giving out fast.

He'd failed. He'd failed everyone.

_Scott!_

In the darkness, he could hear her voice, vibrating in his bones, resonating through his entire being.

_Scott, please don't give up. Scott!_

“Allison?” he murmured, breathing in the scent of Isaac's scarf, fingers twitching against the hole he'd dug.

_Scott. Don't give up._

“I'm so tired...”

_You can do this. Stay strong, Scott. You're not alone. You're not alone._

And he wasn't. He knew that. There were so many people counting on him, so many people he loved. Allison. Stiles. Everyone.

He didn't know where the strength came from, but he mustered enough to get onto his stomach and start digging again, though his hands were numb and his heart was beating slow.

“Scott!”

His eyes rolled listlessly over to the sound of footsteps and commotion, Mr. Argent and Peter coming into view, knocking down plants with long bladed knives and claws. Mr. Argent pulled Scott up by the shoulders of his shirt and Scott fell limp in his grip, trying to blink his vision back into a good view.

“Shit!” Peter started coughing, clamping a hand over his mouth, adding a muffled, “It's fucking toxic down here.”

“Scott, where are the others? Where's Allison?”

Scott felt tears roll out of his eyes as he shook his head. He couldn't talk, couldn't think. He just didn't want to give up because people were counting on him and people were _dying_ and Allison might have already been _dead_ and just a figment of his imagination at that point.

“Scott! Focus!”

Peter hit the ground, taking shaky breaths. “Argent, for fuck's sake!” He yelled, his voice cracking. “Look!”

He pointed to the ground where Scott had been digging, the low glow emanating from it. “More important matters at hand. Agh!”

Peter was bleeding from the mouth, nose, and ears. He was not well.

“What the hell is that?”

“I have a few hunches,” Scott breathed.

…

Derek was suddenly airborne, vines yanking him upwards, away from the beasts, away from Stiles, who reached for him with long pale fingers, his pistol falling from his palm.

“Stiles!”

“That's enough!”

Faye's voice had taken on all of Allison's qualities, vicious sounding and dangerous. She moved with ease and grace, her surroundings shifting to accommodate her. Her beasts screeched, swarming around her, poised for attack. She smirked.

“The moon is just right in the sky,” she said. “And I only need one more heart for my transformation to be complete.”

Derek gasped as large thorns dug into his skin, his eyes jumping to different points on her face as he tried to read her.

“It's really a shame that Otrok had to be so foolish.”

“Her name was Aylin,” Derek seethed.

“Her name was _worthless!_ ” Faye spat in return, sending another wave of pain into Derek. He squirmed in her hold, tasting blood in his mouth. “Just like all of you. So _desperate to belong_. That's the problem with that fucking pack mentality. You're so interested in making sure that you're liked, that your _loved_ , that someone else's emotions? They don't matter! Let them burn.” Faye snorted. “I suppose you understand that, don't you?”

Derek spat blood at her face.

“Well, I'm here to end that. You want to know _true heartbreak?!_ ”

Derek struggled against the vines. “You think I don't?! I've had everything taken from me.”

She smirked. “Not everything. Not yet.”

Derek flinched, waiting for her hand to claw into his chest, waiting for his heart to be ripped out, waiting for... for...

She dove for Stiles, still fighting with his bare hands, ripping at the plant beings with a fever and desperation in his eyes, and screaming Derek's name.

“No...” Derek gasped. “NO!”

She pushed Stiles to the ground, lifting her hand to puncture his chest.

“You're nothing,” she hissed. “Your love is _nothing_ but a hindrance.”

Vines held Stiles to the floor, but he didn't look at her. He looked past her, up at Derek. And he smiled.

“You're wrong,” he said. “You're so wrong, Faye.”

Her claws dove for his chest. Derek roared. Her hand halted.

A whistle sounded, stuttered, but high-pitched and loud. Vines started withering in their place, turning black and flaking off the walls. Isaac and Boyd and Erica appeared through the gaps in the plants, bleeding a broken and terrified, watching at the world around them shifted. The vines holding Derek relinquished him and he fell to the floor, groaning as his ribs cracked in his chest. He rolled over, holding the offensive spot, blood sliding onto the floor where the thorns had punctured his skin. Faye stumbled off of Stiles in shock, eyes wide.

“No-- how--”

Stiles smiled up at her. “Aren't you familiar with fairy tales? I would think you would be. In those... love conquers all, doesn't it? Is that the stories you used to tell?”

She screamed, holding her head, fighting an internal battle. Stiles scrabbled to his feet, running for Derek. “Hey! Hey, you okay?”

“I'll live. What about you?” He grunted, curling upwards and wrapping his arms around Stiles. It felt like it'd been centuries since he'd done so.

“Same,” Stiles said softly.

Derek placed his hand over Stiles's heart, which had almost been taken from him. “She almost... you almost...”

“GET. OUT. OF. ME!” Allison screamed, throwing herself into the wall, scratching at her skull. She gasped, fighting for air.

Isaac rushed over to her, grabbing her by the arms, forcing her to look at him. “Allison! Don't give up! Please don't give up!”

She dug her nails into his skin, wide-eyed, like a caged animal. “H—help---”

“You're not alone,” Isaac whispered. Black blood swirled up Isaac's arms and disappeared, and Allison cried out, dark blue flowers sprouting from the ground beneath her feet. Then she collapsed, silent.

The house creaked and swayed, crumbling at the seams. Derek dove over Stiles as the entire place collapsed on top of them, a roar in his ears.

…

“What's happening?” Melissa grabbed Stilinski's arm, pointing to the collapsing dome of plant life. It was turning black, collapsing in on itself.

“That's it. I'm going in there.” Stilinski had already made up his mind.

“What? You can't! The whole place is caving in!”

“My son's in there, and so is yours. Unfortunately, mine is a lot more fragile. I'm _going,_ Melissa.”

He started for the entrance, but Melissa grabbed his arm. “Wait a _second!_ ”

“What?!” He turned on her, ready to argue his point again when she kissed him hard on the mouth.

He stumbled back a little bit, his ears turning red, a soft smile playing on his lips, and then he charged in with renewed energy.

“Ms. _McCall!_ ” Lydia said, impressed.

“I have always wanted to do that,” she said. “Hope it was worth it.”

…

It was cold. Stiles stirred a little toward consciousness, grimacing at the chill on his skin. He took a shaky breath, then coughed, tasting sheet rock, cotton-mouthed. Derek was a heavy weight on top of him. He ran a hand over Derek's side, finally opening his eyes, even though his eyelids felt like they were being tied down to his cheekbones. They were in the middle of rubble and dead wildlife. The screeching beasts were gone. The room didn't pulse with life any longer. It was just one, big, black, dead, thing. Derek grunted, grimacing against Stiles's neck, sitting up with effort.

“You okay?” he breathed.

“You shielded me with your body and you're asking me?”

Derek gave a sad smile, pulling Stiles close. “I love you too, by the way.”

Stiles held tight, not wanting to let go.

“Ow,” Isaac groaned, popping up out of a pile of rubble, shaking dust out of his hair. Allison was limp against his chest, unconscious.

Erica and Boyd also clambered out of the wreckage, looking a little beat up, but otherwise okay.

“What about everyone else?” Erica asked and it hung in the air, because there was no sign of anyone else.

“Stiles?! _STILES?!_ ”

Stiles perked, pulling away from Derek. “Dad?”

“Stiles!” Sheriff Stilinski grabbed his son, pulling him close like he was afraid he'd disappear. Stiles hugged back quietly, emotions threatening to bubble up in him.

“Dad, _Dad,_ I'm okay.” He closed his eyes and tried not to cry. “I'm okay.”

Derek managed to get to his feet, holding his aching ribs with a groan. “I'm not healing. I think it's the Wolfsbane. We've got to find Scott and Peter and Mr. Argent.”

“Are you alright?” Mr. Stilinski asked, managing to relinquish his son for just a second.

Derek nodded a little warily. “I will be.”

“Scott?” Isaac was carrying Allison, eyes darting around the dilapidated room. “Scott?”

“Let me take her,” Stilinski said, reaching for Allison. Isaac handed her over and she stirred a little.

“My head...” she muttered, slipping back into unconsciousness.

Stiles breathed. She was alive.

“He went down in the basement,” Erica said, heading for the crumbling steps. “Everyone be careful.”

Derek slid over by Stiles, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand.

…

“Ugh, I feel like a building fell on me. Oh wait,” Peter grumbled, coughing. His head was pounding and his chest ached. He a hollow breath and tried not to choke on it.

“Your sass is so appreciated, Peter,” Argent groaned, shaking rubble off of him and Scott's limp body. “Scott. _Scott._ ” He tapped the kid's cheek. “Scott.” He checked his pulse. “Barely a pulse.” He started pumping the kid's chest. Peter watched, leaning against the wall, his own pulse a little off-kilter. “Come on, Scott. Stay with me.”

“I don't get it,” Peter muttered. “You don't like him much.”

“I don't want him to die.”

“I gathered that. But why not? Wouldn't it make your life easier?”

“My daughter has lost enough. And he's... he's one of the good ones. There's nothing black and white about the world, Hale. We all live in shades of gray. And if that means I have to fight for this kid to live, then so be it.”

Peter closed his eyes, almost amused. “I never thought of it that way, you know?”

He drifted off.

“Scott?!” Isaac's voice was panicked as he descended the stairs two at a time, them creaking and cracking under his feet. “ _SCOTT! Oh my God. No._ ”

The wolf pack gathered around their fallen comrade and fought for his life. Stiles watched from the sidelines, suddenly feeling helpless, his palm cold without Derek's hand in his own. He closed his eyes, letting the tears drift. The world around him withered, like a diseased body, faded away from existence. It was the worst thing about death. Eventually you were forgotten. He thought of his mother, how she had withered like Faye's plants. How she had sunk into the mattress of that hospital bed and completely disappeared. He didn't want to watch that happen again. Not to his friends.

He thought of the woman he'd killed, completely thoughtlessly just filled her with bullets until she flopped on the ground and died. He had _killed her._

“Oh my God.” He said, suddenly feeling sick, falling back against the wall. Derek broke away from the group, going over.

“Stiles?”

“I'm so sorry...” he whispered, his hand clamped over his mouth. “I can't... I didn't want to...”

“Stiles? Stiles, look at me. This is not your fault.”

He shook his head. “I killed _her_... She had to die because of me...”

…

Scott was okay. Everyone was, actually, after a few hits of anti-toxin. Peter was probably the whiniest of the bunch, far worse than Derek and Isaac had been, considering he'd berated them for it. Stiles swallowed up a lot of the hurt in his chest. He didn't want his dad to know that he'd killed anyone or anything, because honestly, admitting that would make it worse. He already felt bad enough. Derek had protected her. He had seen something in her. She was just another lost soul on the path of the werewolf. And Stiles had outed that light without a second thought.

He was ashamed and miserable.

Allison made a full recovery, though she had moments where she fazed in and out of reality for a bit. Having a crazy fairy in her head probably was the worst thing she'd ever experienced. Which was saying something. She and Scott seemed to be on-again after that little stunt though, and Mr. Argent nor Isaac seemed to mind as much as Stiles expected them to. He supposed they had both proved their worth in a way. Also, his dad had been acting kind of weird around Scott's mom. Stiles wondered what the hell _that_ was about but wasn't about to go snooping. He just didn't have it in him. He needed some rest from all the spying.

He sat on the hood of his Jeep staring out over the city, his head in his hands. An unopened bottle of Jack sat tantalizingly close to his hip, but he just didn't feel like getting drunk. Killing someone? That was sobering enough – he figured dealing with it would take a certain amount of sobriety as well. He wasn't sure if that meant he was growing up or not. How many teenagers had blood on their hands?

“You've been out here a long time.”

Stiles jumped. “Jesus! Could you put a bell around your neck?”

“Ah, but see, scaring you would be a lot harder that way,” Derek teased, slipping out from behind a tree. “And what fun would that be?”

“Depends on if you're taking about you or me.”

Derek leaned on the hood, glancing at the whiskey. “You're... not okay, are you.” He stated it like it was blatant fact and it kind of pissed Stiles off but he held it back.

“Maybe. I don't know. I've never killed an innocent person before.”

“She was gone before you put a bullet in her, Stiles. Faye controlled her with her own rage. You start blaming yourself for things that are out of your control and you'll end up in the same place.”

Stiles drew his knees up to his chest. “You gonna follow your own advice on that one?”

Derek smiled a little halfheartedly. “I'm trying. I'll get there. I know you will too.”

“I locked up all the weapons Mr. Argent gave me. I gotta say. I do prefer to use my brain in these situations rather than go rolling in with weapons.”

“Yeah, I'm not used to sarcasm not being your only defense.”

“I still have plenty of that, no worries.”

Derek reached across the hood and grabbed Stiles's hand, looking out over the horizon. “This isn't going to be easy, you know.”

“I didn't sign up for easy.”

“I've got my own issues to deal with. And I'll probably piss you off. A lot.”

“Yeah, well, I will probably do that too.”

“I just....” Derek sighed. “I love you. But I want you to have the opportunity to bail.”

Stiles shook his head, lacing their fingers together. “I think we made it through a pretty big hump, don't you? I'm not about to bail on you now. You need to realize that not everyone's going to bail on you the second it gets tough.”

Derek clambered up onto the hood to sit next to Stiles, looking a little lost but touched. “Yeah, but having the option isn't a bad thing.”

“I guess. But I don't plan on using it.”

Things weren't perfect. He wasn't going to be over killing someone in a day, no matter what Derek said. And he and Derek weren't going to get along forever. They would fight and argue and feel like crap some days. Stiles had a lot on his plate, still. And it wasn't like Beacon Hills would remain – yes – a _beacon_ for supernatural activity. He never felt like he was ready for it. But he was willing to try. He didn't sign up for easy. He signed up for right. And at the moment? It felt right.

The sun dipped low in the sky, the air growing chillier with the coming evening. He leaned on Derek's shoulder and watched it in the quiet.

“We're gonna be okay, right?”

Derek smiled into Stiles's hair. “I'm not going to make any promises, but yeah, I think so.”

Not perfect. But it would do.

It would do just fine.


End file.
